“Just to be clear,” he said to Betty. “You think Sun and I are overdue on doing what, exactly?”
Betty’s palps flung out, knocking mounted slates off the bulkheads. “Stop! No details! When I eat aliens, I like to drink their flesh and suck their bones dry. I do not like to think of the disgusting bodily functions that my food has performed. Even talking about such things makes my fangs sting. I do not want to know the sordid details of your biology. However, I am Major Sun’s best friend, and it has been clear to me for some time that she wishes to lay her eggs in you. Now that you are dying more quickly, Branco, you both need to hurry up. Am I the only one who can see this matter in front of your stupid Human faces?”
“So…” Branco rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. “You think the spiciness of a dangerous adventure will get the major…in the mood.”
“Yes.” Betty spread her palps—a Tortantula shrug as far as Branco could work out. “Tatterjee explained how this worked. He explained many things I did not want to know.”
“And you think Sun wants to…lay eggs?”
Betty snapped her jaws. “I told you to stop it. The details are disgusting. I don’t want to know them.”
“Fine. Because frankly, boss, I don’t want tell you.”
“That is good.”
Branco wrenched his attention away from the Tortantula and back to Jenkins. “Narrow the search to return only cargo haulers that have never been registered with a cargo worth more than two hundred thousand credits.” He cleared his throat. Under Betty’s looming presence, his words didn’t want to come out. “Also, it must have Goka and Zuul in its crew.”
“Although, there is the birth,” said Betty. “I should like to see that.”
Branco stared into the extra-large eyes at the front of Betty’s head. The detail eyes as she called them. He flinched, but it was nothing to do with Betty and everything about the tightness in his head that clamped like a vise whenever he used his pinplants. He feared using them more than the prospect of pissing off Betty. The Devil, but I need stronger meds.
“You’re weird,” he told Betty. “No way. Jenkins, target ship’s crew needs to be at least twice the size of a typical ship of its class. Needs to have been docked at Station 5 for at least four weeks and with no registered departure date, and…see if you can find one formerly registered to a government of one of the local worlds in the Spine Nebula.”
“But it is such a beautiful thing,” Betty insisted. “It would be a wonder to see Major Sun’s hatchlings as they emerge from your nesting carcass, Branco. Your diseased flesh would be reborn into a new generation. It is a wonder of nature.”
Branco snapped his jaws in imitation of Betty’s gesture of irritation. “I tell you what. You take it up with Sun. If she’s okay with you being there when the hatchlings arrive, it’s okay with me.”
“Thank you, friend Branco. It is a shame you’re almost dead, because I would have liked to have you ride on my back. Now, work faster, both of you, or I shall bite.”
“No need, Boss Betty,” said Jenkins. “We have succeeded. Our latest criteria have narrowed the search to a single vessel. It is a Jei-Lin-class corvette registered out of McPhereson’s Star, and currently at Docking Bay 8-B. Originally a system defense boat, it’s now an independent trader.”
The Jeha raised his rear segments, lifting five legs and drawing them together so their feet touched.
“What’s it called?” asked Branco, leaning out of his chair to smack his palm against the alien’s legs in an inter-species high five.
His pendant translated Jenkins’ clicks and scratches into the Crazy Notion.
* * * * *
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jex was firmly of the opinion that the best way to get to know the truth of a place was to visit its dark underbelly, the kind of sinkhole dignitaries only hear about in reports of riots and murders. The area junkies and vagrants are too proud to visit. There was always such a place. It was the explanation for Southend-on-Sea.
In the case of Station 5, the dark bowels of existence festered in the lower decks of Vane 2. Along with the usual dross in such places, Deck 27, Vane 2 boasted itinerant pharmacists, Caroon fighting pits, people-smuggling franchises, oiled Jakota walking mannequins, and unlicensed gaming whores.
All very interesting, for sure, but none of them were quite what Jex was looking for. They’d been on the station for two weeks now and already he could feel himself getting surly. He needed to let off steam, and he wasn’t the only one.
Flanked by Kenngar and Turnaround, they found what they were looking for in one of the vending halls. All they did was walk in through the access corridor and the citizens of Station 5 fled before them.
“Must have been your manly perfume, Jex,” Turnaround suggested.
Jex stood, hands on hips and watched the crowds ebb away. “Nah, reckon they heard you were here on the pull, Turnaround. You’re too much for this sorry lot to handle.”
Kenngar made a chuffing noise—the Zuul equivalent of rolling his eyes—because it was already apparent that the emptying of the area had nothing to do with the three Midnighters.
Like the tide going out to reveal rock pools, a knob of people was left behind.
Walking over to join them, Jex saw four Jivool kneeling on the deck, being threatened by three strutting Zuul armed with metal bars. The ring of onlookers seemed torn between fleeing, watching the spectacle, and jumping in to start a brawl.
“These fools didn’t kneel quickly enough,” proclaimed one of the Zuul, while the other two snarled at the onlookers. “None of you have our permission to leave. You need a reminder of how to respect your betters.”
Now this is interesting, thought Jex. He’d fought Jivool mercs before. They were powerfully built aliens like hunchbacked bears with overlong arms and big muscles. One-on-one, Jivool mercs were more than a match for Zuul. He supposed the ones on their knees weren’t fighters, though.
And the Zuul? They wore a uniform of blouson jackets in bright yellow leather, with an emblem he didn’t recognize over their breasts.
A metal bar smacked wetly into the side of a Jivool head. The alien grunted in pain, but the others on their knees merely bowed their heads as they waited their turn.
The crowd had gone deathly silent. Jex didn’t reckon any of them had the guts to get involved.
“Why don’t they fight back?” Jex hissed to the others hanging around at the back of the crowd.
“They’re not afraid of the three thugs,” Turnaround replied. “They’re shitting themselves at offending who’s behind them. I say we teach them a lesson of our own.”
“It’s not our problem,” whispered Kenngar. “This is not Midnight Sun business.”
“No,” Jex agreed. “This is our entertainment. Turnaround, are you still up for it if Kenngar sits this one out? They are his people, after all.”
Kenngar snapped his jaws. “These yellow jacket thugs are my people in the same manner Adolf Hitler was one of yours. No, I merely wished to clarify that we aren’t being paid to do this, which means we aren’t covered for medical and death benefits.”
“Good to know,” said Jex. “Right then. Let’s go punch some bad guys.”
The three Midnighters quietly pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Luckily for the Jivool victims of this “reminder,” the yellow-jacketed Zuul were enjoying drawing out the spectacle.
When the second blow connected with a Jivool head, an onlooking Oogar growled. All it took was one Zuul to flash the emblem on his jacket and the Oogar bowed his head and backed away. The emblem was a black flag with silver infinity symbol—a Mobius strip. It meant nothing to Jex.
Who were these people? “That makes this a fact-finding mission,” he mumbled to himself. “Vital reconnaissance. Entirely justified.”
“What’s that?” One of the Zuul pierced Jex with a stare as he bared stained fangs.
The onlookers peeled away from Jex, making room for what might come next.
“Have you something to say, Human?” The Zuul smacked the bar against his palm, leaving a bloody smear.
“I was just admiring your jackets,” Jex said in a loud voice. “They make you look like such cute little doggies. If it were down to me, I’d tie a yellow ribbon to your heads and bring you back home for the Somerleyton Orphanage kids to play with. But…you know how it is? Suffolk’s really strict about the rabies quarantine.”
The Zuul lashed out with his bar.
Jex had been waiting for a wild swing to his head, but the attack came low and fast. Jex barely managed to stumble away, losing his footing and ending up on his butt. He looked up helplessly at the Zuul over him, the metal bar high above his head and ready to smash down.
Jex tensed to roll away from the weapon’s arc, knowing he would be lucky to do more than deflect its force somewhat.
But the bar stayed where it was, frozen above the gang member’s head.
Jex nearly laughed himself into a hernia as his attacker’s eyeballs rolled up in his head and stared at the huge Oogar who had grabbed his bar.
Oogar and Zuul locked gazes for a couple of seconds, then the Oogar smashed his fist down, and it was lights out for the Zuul.
Everyone’s attention had been sucked into the contest between Human, Zuul, and Oogar. Everyone except for Kenngar and Turnaround. Each tackled one of the remaining Zuul to the ground. Turnaround pummeled her opponent with knuckledusters while Kenngar bit his opponent’s ears off with his bare teeth.
The crowd joined in, punching, kicking, and spitting at the Zuul bullies.
Much as Jex wanted to bloody his own fists, he soon stepped in to break up the violence.
To the authorities, a brawl in a place like this was just the underclass letting off steam, like Friday night chucking out time on Colchester Head Street. Killings were another matter entirely.
The mob allowed itself to be shoved away to reveal the three bloodied hoodlums. One was unconscious, another was bent double with hands staunching the blood welling out of the gaps where its ears had once been. The last one paused in its licking of its bloodied muzzle and pointed a finger at Turnaround. “I remember your scent. You’re one of those fucking Midnighters.”
Turnaround went pale for a moment. Jex didn’t blame her, but she recovered quickly, giving the battered Zuul a wry smile. “That’s right. You got your ass handed to you by the Midnighters. Achievement unlocked. Congratulations. I would award you a sticker but they’re in such high demand we’ve run out.”
Jex stood over the Zuul. “If you’ve recognized her, maybe we should kill you to be on the safe side.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” The Zuul’s words were aggressive, but his ears were back and his posture drooped submissively.
Jex crouched down and thrust his face into the gangster’s snout. “Why don’t you get the hell out of here before I make my mind up?”
The Zuul fled, dragging their unconscious comrade with them.
Once they were out of sight, the Jivool who’d been set up as victims tentatively thanked their rescuers. They acted as if it would have been better that their heads had been pounded by blunt instruments.
“Is it true what that dog said?” asked one of the bloodied Jivool. “Are you the darkness before the light?”
“Eh?” Jex scratched his head. “Is this a religious thing? I don’t do alien religions.”
“I think you’re forgetting something, Sergeant Newbie.” Turnaround grinned as she drew out a challenge coin. Beneath the Midnight Sun corporate logo were the words The Darkness Before the Light.
“Challenge coins!” yelled Jex, examining the metal disc. “No one said anything about challenge coins. Why don’t I have one?”
“Ask the boss,” said Kenngar. “Guess you’ll have to wait till we get back to base at Tau-Rietzke.”
A Jivool took the coin and held it aloft reverently.
The mood of the crowd shifted. They were still fearful, but the coin was a talisman of hope. These were people prepared to fight back against this lowlife gang.
“Whose arses did we just kick?” he asked the Jivool. “And what the hell’s going on with you and that bloody coin?”
“They are Endless Night,” explained the alien.
Turnaround sucked in a deep breath. “Nasty lot. They were a big pirate outfit who spread their tentacles across the Spine Nebula. Never used to have the uniforms, nor the fancy logo. Last time we were here, we gave them a serious kicking.”
“Not hard enough,” said the Jivool.
“Is G’Zyoulk still around?” asked Turnaround. “He must have a serious hard on for revenge against Captain Blue.”
“No,” said another Jivool. “The Goka king is dead. Midnight Sun wiped out the core of the pirate fleet. The remainder scattered and splintered…hid. Then, about eighteen months ago, in your Terran time, the rhythms of the nebula changed abruptly. No one knows why. The dying embers of the Endless Night found a new fuel and flared back into life.”
“A new leader?” asked Kenngar.
“Perhaps. If so, this new leader hides from view. But I think it is simply that they have thrown off the shackles of their previous existence. Endless Night used to be limited in the crimes they permitted themselves, and in their choice of victims. They had many lucrative opportunities they refused to take. Some said that there was another power, lurking even deeper in the darkness, telling them what they could and could not do. If that was true then, it is not true now. So far, they are few in number on Station 5, but their old reputation still holds great power.”
“Bollocks,” Jex groaned at the news. “I came looking for a little aggro, not real trouble. Seemed to me those Endless Night thugs were surprised to hear any Midnighters were on this station, but they sure as hell know now. C’mon, let’s get back to the ship. We have to report this to the major.”
* * * * *
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jenkins opened Hopper’s door and walked through.
It wasn’t as easy as depressing a door-release button. The door’s security had been so tricky to crack that he’d had to bring Zarbi in to help. And to get here in person, he’d donned his persona of a super-rich crime magnate to walk past the guards patrolling the exterior, timing it just right so they would be out of sight when he pinlinked to the door’s control system and ordered it to swish open.
She was there.
His heart melted with relief. He hadn’t been sure she was still alive.
He scampered across the carpet toward her, slowing in horror as he saw the many dents disfiguring her beautiful segments. She’d been beaten!
Hopper screamed, picked up her delicate galactic orrery, and held it up as a weapon. “Who are you?”
“Jenkins.”
“Liar. You look nothing like him.”
“Do not hurt me. I will prove it.”
He replaced his prosthetic carapace segment with his natural one.
“It’s you! Really you!”
Jenkins shook a suave s-curve into his shape. “Did I not mention I’m a fearless spy?”
“Oh, Jenkins. You brave, brave fool. You must get away. It’s dangerous.”
“Agreed. But I had to know you were okay, Hopper. And…” He gently placed an antenna on one of her carapace dents. “I can see you aren’t.”
“I thought they were my security,” she explained. “Here to keep me safe.”
“And this…” Jenkins looked around the exquisitely apportioned cabin. “This is your research lab?”
“Yes.” She sounded disappointed in him. Of course, she didn’t need a lab. Her work was theoretical.
“It was a game really,” she said. “I wanted to slip away past their observation and journey to the docking plaza, where I might indulge in a little fun. When they found out, they hurt me. I told them nothing about you because I didn’t want them to hurt you too.”
“I would like to see them try.” He shuddered at the thought. The truth was that he would
n’t like that at all, but with Betty nearby in reserve, he felt almost brave. “Better if we don’t let them, though. Grab what you need, my love. You’re being rescued.”
“When they hurt me, it was a disagreeable reminder of the grossness of the physical universe. But after a couple of days, I lost myself again in my theoretical work.”
Jenkins clicked nervously. Why wasn’t Hopper surrendering to his care and fleeing?
“The brutes thought they were punishing me by forbidding me to exit my quarters. In reality, it was the key to locking in my final burst of concentration. My progress in solving the final equations today has been remarkable. I can’t be disturbed now.”
The surveillance devices outside fed a view of a Goka walking by. Jenkins had seen it earlier picking at its nails with knives. Even with Betty on standby, he didn’t like the prospect of leaving now. He decided the exit window was shut for the time being and concentrated instead in debating some sense into the one he’d come to rescue.
“They hurt you, Hopper.” Jenkins snapped his mandibles. “I should like to snip off their soft parts. Do you know who they are? Their names? Their organization?”
“Fhuut, Ryndax, and Nole are their names. I don’t know who I’m working for, but they bear a recognition symbol tattooed into their fleshy parts or painted onto their shells. It is a Mobius strip on a black background. What that means, I do not know. Someone read my research paper on 3-2-3 dimensional transformations and contacted me directly with an offer of work. The money was exceedingly good, so I assumed this was genuine.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is. That doesn’t mean their motives are pure.”
“But the mathematics are, my lover.”
Lover. Jenkins trembled.
Endless Night (The Guild Wars Book 3) Page 17