Ain't Nobody's Business

by C. J. Clemens

  As the group shuffled into the corridor, all heads turned in perfect unison to stare at him. Like a herd of deer caught in headlights.

  Oh, boy, this is gonna be so much fun.

  Chapter 5

  DREYLA

  “Tosh!” Dreyla yelled.

  She pushed past Remy and collapsed into the old man’s chest.

  Tosh squeezed her in a tight embrace.

  She lingered in his arms for a moment, noting the familiar scent of his cologne—the cologne he normally used to woo women, not that the Ladies of Morbious would have required such efforts. Dreyla tried in vain to dismiss thoughts of the doctor’s recent activities at the monastery. She was just relieved to see him again. Even though he typically stayed behind on the Jay whenever she and Remy embarked on a job, she didn’t enjoy being separated from her two favorite crewmates (well, her only two crewmates nowadays) on this odd, foreign planet.

  As Dreyla extricated herself and took a step backward, she noticed a ridiculously wide grin on Tosh’s face. A shit-eating grin, as Remy would call it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the primary cause of such glee, or at least not the only cause. Two scantily-clad beauties sauntered out of an adjoining room. Actually, scantily-clad was a stretch. Both monks had donned sheer robes—and nothing else.

  Tosh gazed past Dreyla’s shoulder. Wearing a sheepish grin, he joined his hands in a prayer sign. “Praise Morbious.”

  Dreyla whirled around in time to see Remy rolling his eyes.

  The captain turned to the ladies. “Uh, yeah,” he said gruffly. “We’re about to have a whole bunch of guests in here.”

  With vague, curious smiles, they merely blinked at him.

  “Um, what the captain means is…” Dreyla blurted, then searched desperately for the right words. “Well, if you could, maybe, put on some more clothes? You distract the men too much.”

  Heat spread across her neck, but Remy’s grateful glance was worth her momentary embarrassment. It was hard to believe she’d, even for a second, flirted with the idea of joining the Ladies of Morbious. Wearing the gold-mesh bikini and flimsy burgundy robe had dissuaded her enough; prancing around naked was out of the question.

  The monks smiled graciously down at her.

  “We understand,” one trilled.

  Then, still smiling, they proceeded to a wardrobe along one wall, where they offered enticing views of their perfect bodies from behind.

  Tosh watched them the whole way, his frown deepening.

  “Tosh, focus,” Remy snapped.

  He then filled in the doc on the happenings of the past two days, making sure to mention whom they had lying unconscious and handcuffed back at the Hotel Verilux. Dreyla added her own commentary because Remy always played down the good bits. She didn’t mention the curious chemistry building between the captain and the sheriff, though, hoping it was all in her imagination.

  “Looks like I missed out on all the fun,” Tosh said. He didn’t look even slightly sorry.

  “Oh, there’ll be plenty more,” Remy replied. “Come on, Drey, help me sort this gear.”

  She followed Remy to the two trunks in question and hunkered down to help him. Among the equipment concealed beneath the false bottoms lay several weapons, some that killed, some designed only to stun. Beyond the weapons they’d already smuggled into Bane, each member of their team would receive both a lethal gun and a short stun rod—the same type Dreyla had used to incapacitate Commander Shaw. By the time she and Remy had organized both the weapons and the other pertinent items, the rest of their group had arrived.

  “What are those?” Milo asked.

  He gazed at the short-range draft jumpers. They resembled small sets of wings—no more than five feet wide when fully opened. A handle dangled below each wing, the grips equipped with several controls.

  “We can make short-distance jumps with these,” Dreyla explained.

  “They’re more like low-powered gliders with a very weak upper-propulsion system,” Remy added, pointing at the four small thrusters under each wing.

  He picked up one set of the draft jumpers, held it aloft, and pushed a button on the handle. The wings promptly tugged at him, without lifting him off the floor.

  “Luckily, it’s nearly silent,” he said. “But this is why we need to be higher up than our target. These will only control the descent.”

  “And what is this screen material?” Jacer nodded toward several rolls of black mesh lying on the floor, right next to a control line and a trigger box.

  “That,” Remy said with an audible note of pride, “is one of Drey’s inventions.”

  She unrolled one to demonstrate. It spread out on the floor, covering a three-foot-by-four-foot space. “We hook the control line up, and it can melt through metal, ceramic, concrete, wood, or pretty much anything else, instantly creating a breaching point.”

  “That’s clever,” Lilly said, picking up a roll and bouncing it in her hands. “Pretty light, too.”

  “We could use something like that,” Davis chimed in. “Hell of a lot easier than having to bust down doors.”

  Lilly nodded.

  Dreyla carefully rolled up the mesh she’d unfurled.

  “But you can’t use them on the storage device,” Tosh warned.

  “What?” Remy swung to him.

  “You may damage the nano-biotics,” Tosh explained. “I was playing with a dose back at the monastery. The nans don’t react well to high heat or sudden temperature changes.”

  Remy clenched and unclenched his fists. “Then we’ll just have to figure another way into it… if it’s even locked.”

  “What’s this?” Lilly had grabbed a metal cube, roughly the size of her fist.

  “Easy with that, Lilly,” Dreyla murmured. She gently took the device from the sheriff and turned it over in her hand. “This is another one of my inventions. It creates a plasma wall.”

  This statement elicited blank stares from everyone except Remy and Tosh.

  “You push this button and toss it at the ground. A thin line of traxium will shoot out six feet on each side. A burst of plasma filters down the line and shoots upward, producing a wall of fire that’ll seriously mess up anyone attempting to pass through it. It extends about six feet in the air and only lasts for about ten seconds.”

  Dreyla enjoyed the oohs and aahs that followed, plus the general looks of approval aimed in her direction.

  “Trust me,” Remy added, “it’s a good escape device. Someone’s chasin’ you, toss that down and it’ll give you the extra seconds you desperately need.”

  “There are some small smoke grenades, too.” Dreyla pointed to the cluster of egg-shaped objects on the floor. “Good for creating cover.”

  Despite Dreyla’s warning to the sheriff about handling potentially dangerous items, Milo crouched down and scooped up a tiny marble-sized object, one of four that Remy had just placed on the floor. Dreyla glanced at the captain, her brow furrowed in confusion.

  Remy picked up another one. “Grav-speakers,” he explained, gazing at Dreyla. “Wilson on Krakov 7 designed them for me. He’s a fellow audiophile.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “And you’re gonna use them for what exactly?”

  “I can throw them at any surface,” Remy said. “They’ll stay in place for a good hour.”

  Her eyebrow remained raised.

  “Then I blast a bit of B.B. King to confuse the natives,” he added, grinning like a fool.

  Dreyla rolled her eyes.

  “Nice,” Tosh said. “Death by music.”

  The rest of the group just stared blankly at Remy.

  “Listen, everyone,” he said, waving his hands for focus again, “if this all goes according to plan—”

  “Which it hardly ever does,” Dreyla interjected. She couldn’t help herself.

  Remy frowned, then swiftly continued. “The distraction team will cause enough of a ruckus that Drey, Jacer, and I can drop down onto the building, slip in through the roof, and nab the meds unnot
iced. Ten minutes, tops.”

  “Lady Ris and her people,” Lilly added, “will be in the hovercrafts waiting for us a block away.”

  Lady Ris nodded.

  “Tosh,” Remy said, patting the doc’s shoulder. “You’ll stay in the building and keep a lookout on what’s going on in the courtyard.”

  “No problem, Captain,” Tosh said with a grin.

  “Be ready to get out of here, Tosh,” Remy said, his tone sharpening, clearly trying to impress upon the doctor that he needed to focus on the mission, not the lovely ladies.

  “As soon as we give the signal…” Dreyla said.

  “What’s the signal?” Davis asked.

  “Run,” Remy said, his incredulous expression indicating a silent duh, dummy.

  “Or if it looks like shit’s gone south,” Dreyla added, “don’t even wait for that.”

  Remy nodded in agreement.

  Dreyla distributed weapons and earpiece comms to everyone in the suite, including Lady Ris and her fellow monks. After testing out the comms, the “distraction team” headed down to the saloon, where the fake argument would ensue.

  Remy, meanwhile, explained the draft jumpers to Jacer, striving to ensure the aflin knew how to use the device. It pleased Dreyla that Jacer would be the one operating the wings—he seemed fairly competent.

  “Tosh,” Dreyla said under her breath, “the captain was serious… be ready to go.”

  He winked at her and puffed out his chest. “Ready as I’ve ever been.”

  His uncharacteristically macho act seemed to be meant for the monks still loitering by the wardrobe. While the rest of the team had been reviewing all the gear, the two ladies had found some colorful silk shawls to drape over their luscious curves. If anything, the women looked even more alluring now.

  “Well, that just fills me with confidence,” Dreyla muttered.

  Chapter 6

  SHAW

  Shaw cautiously opened her eyes, letting in a chink of light. Her heart raced, and thoughts dribbled into her mind, laboriously and painfully, but she knew enough not to make any sound. What had hit her? Some kind of stunning device. Was she otherwise hurt? No. The pain clustered in her head and her wrists.

  Her pulse calmed down a notch. The last thing she remembered was staring down at Bechet, pointing her gun at him. Once again, the pesky pirate had managed to escape. But who the hell had knocked her out from behind?

  Based on her limited perspective, she lay on her side atop a mattress in an unfamiliar hotel room. Likely in the Hotel Verilux, somewhere above the bar she’d last encountered Bechet. She tried to shift her arms, but they seemed to be secured to the thick metal bedframe. With a careful tilt of her head, she surveyed her wrists and recognized the type of handcuffs she’d seen in the sheriff’s office. OK, this confirmed her theory that Bechet was still working with the law.

  Or pretending to.

  A young, blonde woman sat in a chair beside the bed, gazing out a nearby window with an unawareness that indicated boredom and a tragic lack of experience. Shaw had seen her before… somewhere. Yes, she was one of Greyson’s deputies, though she didn’t appear to be in uniform. She, Bechet, the sheriff, and their irritating cohorts were all probably trying to blend in with the locals.

  A stinging pain radiated out from the small of Shaw’s back, but she forced herself to focus on her right wrist. The artificial sensors weren’t identical to flesh-and-bone receptors, but they simulated familiar sensations, adequately informing her the cuff was loose enough for what she wanted to do. If she pulled her hand downward, she could flex it open while twisting at the wrist, which might, in turn, break the cuff. Whoever secured her with these cuffs hadn’t factored in the extra strength of her artificial hand. Very foolish of them.

  Bechet should know better.

  “No, she’s still out,” the deputy said, flicking her gaze to the bed.

  Shaw quickly shut her eyes and feigned unconsciousness. The comms unit, presumably a hidden earpiece, would make her escape tougher.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” the deputy continued in a piqued tone. “Her breathing hasn’t changed.”

  Who was she talking to? The sheriff? And where was Bechet in all of this?

  Shaw risked another peek through tiny slits of her eyelids. The woman stood up, stretched, and, with a leisurely pace, walked out of her line of sight. Her footsteps changed from padding on a soft, absorbent surface to clicking on something much harder. Apparently, she had moved into a different room, probably a bathroom, given the hollow sounds of the woman’s shoes.

  This was the moment. Shaw tugged her hand downward, further into the cuff. She flinched as the pain receptors scraped the metal between the cuff and her hand. Biting down on the soggy gag in her mouth, she opened her palm and twisted her wrist hard.

  Snap. The cuff had broken. As she freed her artificial arm, the other cuff still clapped onto her left hand unfortunately clanked against the metal frame.

  Damn.

  The deputy appeared, open-mouthed, in the doorway of the bathroom. She made a move toward her hip to draw her pistol, but Shaw was too fast. She sprang to her feet, grabbed the chair beside the bed, and whipped it across the room. It struck the deputy in the torso, making her stumble backwards.

  In a flash, Shaw darted across the bedroom, pushed the stunned deputy to the floor, and pinned her arms with her knees. Two deft strikes to the temples, and the deputy’s head lolled to the side, her eyes closed. Still alive, but in for a rough awakening. Her pretty little face wouldn’t be so pretty for a while.

  Shaw untied the cloth around her head, rose to her feet, and scanned the room properly. The pungent, sweet scent of aflin hung in the air. She had first noticed that aroma when she’d met one of Darkbur’s Elocin contacts. She also caught the smell of human sweat. Perhaps Bechet’s.

  Her gaze drifted through the doorway, noting the rest of the suite. No doubt there had been others here recently. Wherever the sheriff’s people had gone, the plan must already be well underway.

  Did she care? Not really.

  Should she care? Also, not really. She had no loyalty to Darkbur. Why should she risk her neck getting involved in something between him and the law? Especially since the crime boss didn’t seem to employ anybody truly loyal to him, much less anyone who actually liked or respected him. Darius certainly didn’t.

  She would let this situation play out as an objective observer, waiting for an opportunity to strike. If whatever the sheriff and Bechet were doing could possibly help her get off this dump of a planet and back to her own solar system, she would be ready. And if the chance to shoot the pirate arose again, she’d be double-ready. This time, she wouldn’t mess it up.

  She leaned over the unconscious body of the hapless deputy, removed her comms earpiece and her pistol, and then swiped a large rifle leaning against the wall.

  This girl must like guns.

  With one brief look for any other useful weapons, Shaw moved purposefully through the silent suite and into the empty corridor.

  Time to check out what’s going on. Things are about to get interesting.

  Chapter 7

  REMY

  “And there he goes,” Jacer said, tapping his earpiece.

  Over the comms, Remy heard the beginning strains of the argument meant to kick off their diversion. Down in the seedy bar, Milo bellowed at Davis over some fictitious offense, something about an unpaid round of drinks. That dworg sure had a powerful set of pipes. When Remy, Dreyla, and Jacer glided over the courtyard, they’d be able to witness the performance firsthand.

  For now, though, the three of them (plus Tosh) had to enjoy it from afar as they padded down the hallways and up the stairwells of the L-shaped Butcher’s Place, striving for speed but often having to slow to a dawdling pace whenever they encountered any hotel or brothel guests. An exhausting endeavor, but they couldn’t afford to raise suspicion, especially given the folded wings and other paraphernalia they carried.

  Remy wished th
at, upon Tosh’s arrival in Bane, he could’ve secured a suite facing the rear courtyard, but even sporting a disguise, the old doc hadn’t wanted to press his luck. Fortunately, though, one of the Ladies of Morbious had managed to lure another hotel client out of her twelfth-floor suite, which just happened to overlook the courtyard and the rear building.

  As the fake argument raged downstairs, Remy and his three companions hastened through the side wing of the Butcher’s Place and finally arrived at the appropriated suite.

  “Get ready,” Remy said as he shouldered open the unlocked door.

  After quickly verifying that the suite was indeed vacant, Remy ushered his three cohorts inside, secured the door, and made a beeline for the bedroom offering the best view of the courtyard. He motioned for the other three to stay out of sight while he stepped toward a large picture window and studied the scene below.

  Night had fallen, which would help to conceal their descent, and mounted floodlights illuminated the courtyard, helping Remy survey the situation. A pair of guards still flanked the front door of the rear building, but a small crowd had begun to form on the opposite side of the courtyard, near the open doorway of the saloon. After a moment, Remy gestured to Dreyla and Jacer, indicating it was safe to join him at the window.

  “As soon as our guys draw the guards’ attention, we jump,” Remy told them, pointing toward the two armed men far down below. He turned to the doctor. “Tosh, you just stay here and keep a lookout for us. You’ll be our eyes once we breach the building.”

  “You got it, Captain.”

  Hoping Tosh would remain focused, Remy opened the window as wide as possible, secured his draft jumper, and crouched on the windowsill. He jerked his head around to see how Dreyla and Jacer were holding up.

  “You two ready?”

  Dreyla had accomplished far more dangerous jumps than this, so she didn’t seem nervous in the least. She just smiled back gamely and spread her wings wide.

  Jacer, however, was busy playing with the control grips of the draft jumper, steadfastly refusing to look at either him or Dreyla. Remy had been around the aflin long enough to know that he was insufferably proud, so attempting to reassure him would likely backfire.