Gun Runner

by Larry Correia

  “Down that hallway,” he pointed. “At the second intersection, you’ll see the sign for the docking bays. Just follow it from there.”

  Jackson checked his timer. 43:33. The hours were slipping by. He dressed, then exited the examination area.

  Tui and Katze must have been notified he’d landed, because they were waiting for him. Tui gave him a big crushing hug. “Glad to see you, man. We thought you were dead!”

  “Thanks for coming back for me, guys,” Jackson said.

  “We tried,” Katze said. “You were nowhere to be seen.”

  “I was unconscious at the bottom of a gully.”

  “We couldn’t put back down with that giant monster thing stomping around, and we loitered until the dropship’s intakes started corroding.”

  “So you saw the big thing too?”

  “Only from the sky and through the trees,” Tui said. “I’m sure it was way more impressive from underneath.”

  Jackson thought back to being in the shadow of the moving mountain and shuddered. “Oh yeah. Super impressive.”

  Katze said, “Once it moved on, we wanted to go back, but Warlord refused and sent his rangers, but the rain had washed all the trails away. There was nothing to follow.”

  Jackson feigned indignation. “Leaving a comrade behind to be molested by rude animals. I’m sure there’s something nice you’ve prepared to make it up to me.”

  “If you had stayed put, I wouldn’t have to make up anything,” Tui said.

  “That’s a little difficult when all the carrion eaters of Swindle show up for an all-you-can eat buffet. It was escape and evade, or else.”

  Katze slapped hard him on the back. “Well, it’s good to have you home.”

  Jackson flinched, then tensed, waiting for his spine to begin to melt, but nothing happened.

  Tui saw his pained expression. “What?”

  “Watch the back, please.”

  Tui got a teasing look in his eye. “What, did you get a sunburn down there?” He raised his hand to give Jackson another pat on the back.

  “I’m serious.”

  Tui dropped his hand. “I see that you are.” He gave Jackson a meaningful, questioning look.

  Jackson simply glanced down at his surveillance bracelet and back at Tui, who nodded.

  They led him down the corridor and out into the hub. They hopped a transportation cart, then hopped off. There was a crowd of vendors here selling everything from crates of food packets for space travel to the skulls of some little Swindle creatures for souvenirs. As the trio were walking through the crowd, Jackson was bumped by a man. Moments later a woman brushed against him and moved on. After they made it through the crowd, they reached the corridor leading to the spin adjuster that led from Big Town to the docking tree.

  “So what else happened?” Katze asked while they killed time on the platform, slowing from the orbital’s fast spin to match the docks’ leisurely one.

  Jackson didn’t want to say it here, not around Big Town’s surveillance, and especially not while wearing his black bracelet. “Let’s go to the ship. That way I only have to tell the story once. By the way, if you thought I was dead, why’s the ship still here?”

  “Unexpected engine problems,” Tui said. “Something must have happened on the way through the gate. We’re fabbing new parts now to patch it up.”

  The way Tui said that made him suspicious. They’d been fine jumping in. Had Warlord somehow sabotaged them while they were docked to keep them here? “Nice to know you guys were going to stick around and wait for me.”

  Katze shook her head. “We’re doing our dangdest. But you’re like a bad penny. We just can’t get rid of you.”

  The docks were crowded with workers and crew from several other ships, most of them walking with magnetized shoes, but others bouncing about in the reduced gravity. On the far side of all that chaos the Tar Heel was still there, looking ungainly and magnificent as usual. She really was a site for sore eyes. When they reached the airlock, Tui and Katze removed their orange bracelets and put them in a box standing outside. Jackson set his with theirs. Once they were inside, Tui said, “Check yourself.”

  They checked their pockets while one of Jane’s bots whipped around them looking for bugs and parasites. And he suddenly felt a tinge of alarm. The Warlord probably had eyes and ears here. Jane’s scanner wasn’t some cobbled together Big Town trashbot. It had been programmed by an artist. If it picked up the Swindle souvenir in his spine and flashed in warning, Warlord would see, “Jane, are you there?”

  “Oh, Jackson, I’m so glad you’re back. I was so worried and—”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Then he typed out a silent message with his eyes. “Tell your scanner to skip my spine. I’ll explain inside.”

  “Roger that. And no need to send. You can talk freely. I debugged the airlock already.”

  “You’re the best, Jane.”

  While he was patting himself down, Jackson found two little discs in his pocket. Those hadn’t been there before. One looked like a normal data storage disc. The other was something else. On one side was a logo for some place called the Lucky Monk. On the other side were some numbers.

  “What’s that?” Tui asked.

  “No idea.” It hadn’t been there when the tech had scanned him. One of the people who’d bumped him in the crowd must have slipped it into his pocket.

  Tui took it. “It’s one of those edibles. The samplers. But normally the backside has what you’re sampling. Not just plain numbers.”

  “Maybe they run numbers at the Monk?” Katze said.

  “Naw,” Tui said as he handed it back to Jackson. “It was scraped off. Look. Blue something.” He handed it back to Jackson.

  The token had a twenty-two stacked on top of a fifteen. Or a twenty-one next to a twenty-five. Or just four random numbers. Except he knew they weren’t random. Big Fox had said he’d be contacted.

  When the scan pronounced them clean, they proceeded into the cargo area where some of the crew was working in the weightless environment. The trio did the superman float to the exchange, then entered the hub. And then it was up one of the spokes to the habitat ring and a short float to the bridge.

  There were a bunch of people waiting for him. Captain looked genuinely relieved to see him in one piece. Jane seemed downright ecstatic. She even floated over and entangled him in a hug. He had to admit, he enjoyed that. One of her little murderbots mimicked her and hugged his leg. That, not so much.

  Shade was there. So were XO Castillo and Cargomaster Hilker. Which meant most of the Tar Heel leadership was here. Shade seemed a little disappointed he was still alive, Castillo, annoyed at further complications—but he always looked annoyed, and Hilker seemed happy. But of course, only one man’s opinion really mattered.

  Captain Holloway laughed. “Holy hell, boy, you scared the crap out of everybody. I thought for sure you were caliban poop by now. I was about to arrange a funeral then split up your share and let the crew pick through your personal belongings.”

  “I bet it would’ve been a good funeral.”

  “Sure. I’d have kept it tasteful and dignified.” He grinned. “Welcome back, son.”

  Jackson took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve got a story to tell.”

  Shade sneered. “Of course you do.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “Of course, I won’t.”

  The captain nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna make this an official meeting. Katze…”

  “Understood, sir. Over my pay grade.” And she floated from the bridge. “Welcome back, Jackson.”

  He then proceeded to brief the command staff. He started with the important bits, like the ticking nano bomb, the fact that Fain suspected he was working for terrorists, and then got to the really uncomfortable parts where they might actually be the bad guys. Their expressions got increasingly dour as he went. Nobody liked to be told they’d been helping a maniac slaughter the good guys.

  “I think we
just might be backing the wrong side here, Cap.”

  Shade looked downright insulted, but the Tar Heel CO pondered that. “We’ll circle back to you trying to get us sucked into someone else’s war, but first order of business.” He turned to Jane. “Is Jackson about to explode and kill us all?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Jane already sent for some of her bots, and the little plastic menagerie came flying in through the door. “If there’s something there, I’ll figure out how to remove it safely.”

  Jackson said, “My sentiment exactly. But she warned me tampering will set it off.”

  “I doubt these Originals have anything advanced enough to even see me coming. I should be able to handle this. No problem.”

  “Shouldn’t I go to sick bay?”

  “I’m not a doctor. This is a hardware problem.” Jane was about as cocky when it came to her tech as he was toward piloting. “Take your shirt off, please.”

  Jackson did so. Spacers lived too cramped to get the luxury of modesty. Nearly everyone on the bridge winced when they saw the nasty, painful-looking wollard bites. He directed Jane to the area where Needle Man had injected him.

  “Alrighty then,” the captain said. “While Jane tries not to turn my pilot into a quadriplegic, let’s go back to our supposed war crimes. Are you sure they weren’t just playing you?”

  “Positive, Cap.” Jackson winced as a bot pinched his back. “I only saw the kid they turned into a bomb on the screen, but nobody is that good of an actor. It was real. Let alone a bunker full of rebels and little crippled kids. Warlord’s doing some shifty stuff. I’m talking slaveware-on-children-level evil.”

  “That does match with what we saw that set off that riot,” Tui pointed out. “And some of the rumors the crew has heard since we’ve been docked.”

  Jane’s bots were still moving on Jackson’s back. And Jackson suddenly wondered if the little nano bombs had multiplied. Had they sheathed his spine from top to bottom? Jane was good, but was she that good?

  Javier Castillo was their second in command, but he was a taciturn type. Unless he was running the meeting, he rarely spoke. He made an exception for this. “We need to know who this Big Fox is before we can proceed.”

  “Good idea,” Jackson said and winced a bit at what felt like a bite on his back.

  “Agreed,” said the captain, putting some emphasis on it. Tui brought up the records on the wall display. And the team quickly narrowed down the ISF colonist records based on Jackson’s description, guess at her age, and the fact she was from Gloss. Images began flicking across the display, six at a time They scrolled through while Jane worked, until Jackson spotted her. “Stop.” In the image she was probably two decades younger, but it was the same piercing blue eyes. Except instead of a do-not-mess with me expression, Big Fox had a smile.

  Another one of Jane’s bots decided to bite him. He winced again.

  Tui read the entry. “Marie Jacqueline LaDue. Born on Gloss. Landed with the first settlers. She’s the daughter of a mechanic and was slated to be a kindergarten teacher. Ended up as an assassin for some group during the Swindle gang wars.”

  “That’s quite the career change,” the captain mused. “Are you sure that’s her?”

  Jackson nodded, got another pinch from one of Jane’s bots and squirmed a bit.

  “Quit moving,” Jane grumbled at him. Then, distracted, she said over the comms, “ISF won’t have anything else about her, but you can check the Big Town police records, Tui. I cracked them wide open. They’ll never even know we looked.”

  Tui did a Big Town search. LaDue had warrants for sabotage, assault, treason, robbery, and murder. She was wanted dead or alive, and the reward would be paid in whole kilograms of CX.

  Tui whistled. “Looks like you found yourself a real winner, Jackson. I guarantee, even if you do everything she asks, that lady’s going to hang you out to dry.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jackson said.

  “Think?” Shade shook her head in disbelief. “Are you sure thinking is what’s happening between your ears?”

  He’d been keeping his emotions in check through days of terror and exhaustion, but that was pushing it too far. “Shank you, Grandma. You’re our broker. Did you suck at your job too much to notice what was going on here? Or did you know and just not care because the money was too good?”

  Shade got really red. “You listen here—”

  “You listen. I didn’t get us into this. You did. We’ve got a code for a reason.”

  “We do,” she said, defensive. “We’re traders, not mercenaries.”

  “But we don’t trade to just anyone,” Castillo said, who seemed to be considering this whole thing rather thoughtfully.

  “Big Fox, LaDue, whatever, she said they’ve reported all his crimes to the ISF. She said it’s obvious their claims are valid. We got him mechs that can fight off monsters, but he’s going to use them to slaughter a bunch of settlers too. That’s not what we signed up for.”

  “Oh, really?” Shade said as she pulled up a holo. “Here’s everything the ISF has on Swindle. If the Originals filed all those claims, where are they?” She flipped through the reports. “Where, Jackson? There’s nothing in the official records. Either this terrorist is lying to you, or the ISF is lying to her.”

  “Porque no los dos?” Castillo muttered under his breath.

  “We all know the ISF is trash. They could be setting these people up to fall.”

  “Rook,” the captain said. “You know we don’t deal with tidy problems and tidy situations. We provide the means for people to protect themselves. And when they get those, sometimes they’re going to have be nasty, brutal, and coldhearted to get it done. The only reason the Big Town gold mine hasn’t been cleaned out is there’s a stalemate between three superpowers. You think the ISF cares even the tiniest bit about the claims of a handful of settlers on the surface?”

  “Since when do we turn a blind eye to this type of thing?”

  Captain snorted. “You think we’re turning a blind eye to war? We’re probably some of the rare few who really see it for what it is.”

  “This isn’t just war, Cap. It’s human trafficking, slavery, mind control, and—once he gets that Citadel and that Spider up to speed—mass murder…Heck, I don’t know how many of them are down there. We might be talking full-on genocide.” The thought of that, mixed with thoughts about Gloss, galvanized him. He wasn’t going to be used for another similar slaughter.

  Jackson knew the captain was a moral man, but he was about to ask a lot of him. “We need to do something about it.”

  The captain nodded. “I’m not too proud to admit I might be wrong. I make the best calls I can, but you don’t know what you don’t know. I thought I was helping workers not get eaten by monsters. That’s it. I’m fine with getting out of here and never supplying Big Town again.”

  “Hang on now,” Shade cut in. “You don’t know Jackson’s right. Warlord has already given us another wish list, with huge profit potential, and he’s been a solid client.”

  “Solid don’t matter if they’re solidly homicidal. Doubt is plenty for me to walk away, Shade.”

  There was a reason Jackson followed that man. And that right there was it. But walking away wasn’t enough. “Sir, we can’t just screw these people over, say whoops, sorry, and then abandon them.”

  “I know you got kicked in the head by a giant monster, Rook, but what are we supposed to do?”

  They were not going to like this, but Jackson said it anyway. “Deprive him of the Citadel we just gave him.”

  The crew shared an incredulous look. Hilker actually laughed.

  “Jane,” the captain said. “Did you inspect his head?”

  “I did.”

  “Does he still have all his brains?”

  “As far as I can tell, sir.”

  The captain nodded. “Son, this ain’t our fight. If you’ve not noticed, Jane is currently trying to figure out how to defuse the bomb they stuc
k in your spine, so I’m not thinking of these Originals as the poor picked-on victims here. You’re not on Gloss anymore. But look, I get it, you feel guilty about buffing up a real bad dude, so now you want to make it right. Tell you what, after we get out of here, we put the word out to anyone else in our business about what you saw. If they still want to arm him, that’s on their heads.”

  Shade narrowed her eyes at that. It was clear she didn’t like that idea.

  But the captain ignored her. “XO, how are the repairs going?”

  “We should be able to cast off in six hours.”

  “Expedite those repairs, Mr. Castillo. I want to get away from this orbital as soon as we can. I’ve got a feeling things are gonna get weird.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The captain was changing the subject but skipping out and condemning the Originals to certain death wasn’t good enough. Jackson was about to speak when Jane said, “This is bad.”

  “What have you got?” the captain asked.

  Jane brought up a holo over her handheld scanner so they could all see. Jackson turned his head enough so that he could see the green glowing image of his own spine. She moved the targeting depth in, and out, found something, then zoomed in. “It’s got tripwires all over it, so I’m using low-impact sonar to slowly build this three-D model.”

  “I can’t see anything,” Tui said.

  Jane highlighted it. “There.”

  It was thin, and maybe half a centimeter long.

  “That’s probably just some mutant growth in Rook’s body,” Shade said. “We all know he’s packed with low-grade DNA.”

  Jane said, “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before. It’s…”

  “What?” Jackson asked, because the way Jane had lost her cocky tone was making him really nervous.

  “It’s layered nanotech, but not any kind I’ve dealt with. It’s very clever. Way better than I expected for a planet at this level.”

  “Can you get it out?” the captain repeated.

  “I can see the mechanism. Think of it like a cocked hammer sitting on top of a canister of I don’t know what. It appears to have burrowed into the bone. If I try to sample it, it’ll fire. If I ping it with something strong enough to get a good reading, it’ll fire. It looks like a specific chemical compound would fit as a key to disable it. Only I can’t see it well enough to guess what would serve as a neutralizing agent. Since I don’t even know what the substance is, I can’t distill something to counter it.”