Shackleton's Folly (The Lost Wonder Book 1) (7 page)

“Shackleton, I will kill you for this. I don’t care who you are,” yelled Canfield after him.

A large claw came down on his shoulder, spinning him around. The creature it was attached to, a Huyck, gaped down at him. In galactic Standard, the Huyck said, “You’re going to buy me a drink for the one you spilled.”

“Sir, I am only a humble life servant of my master James Canfield.” Alec pointed out Canfield standing at the bar, now with his back to the room. The creature and his associates pushed past Alec.

Alec met back up with Dancer as he headed to the back of the room. “I thought you hated him.” They both looked back at the confused and angry Canfield, who was explaining himself to the Huyck. His alien partners were distancing themselves from the potential bloodshed.

Alec smiled. “Oh, I do, with every fiber of my body, but he is human. I wanted him to be the focus of the entire room.” Alec weaved his way through the tables, heading to the back of the room. “I’d love to hear how he explains that one to his pals. Let’s find that table.”

He looked back just in time to see an altercation between Canfield and the fuming patrons escalate from loud voices to some pushing and shoving. Canfield was thrown into one of the bar patrons Alec had “bumped” and spilled their drink. The altercation soon escalated into a full-fledged fight, the noise from which soon stood out prominently above the bursts of the background chatter of the patrons. The bouncer appeared from the front of the establishment. His sheer size gave him what could be called “presence” in the fight. The bouncer yanked his weapon from his holster. He used it as additional mass in one fist, as he swung wide, knocking four combatants to the floor. One was out cold, two incurred minor injuries, and the last had a broken arm. The bouncer alternated his punches from his right to his left arm. All the fight was knocked quickly out of the unfortunate group lying injured or unconscious on the floor.

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” said Alec. He headed to the back of the room. Alec spotted Dolk, a small troll-like creature, at a table up front. Dolk tossed back a shot of Nenno Tea when he saw Alec and Dancer and hurriedly pushed back his chair. He came at Alec and grabbed him by the shirtsleeve as he caught up with them.

“Later, Dolk,” Alec said, pulling away.

“I have something I’m sure will interest you,” Dolk said as he grabbed Alec’s arm again.

Dolk had dealt fairly with this human, only to be brushed off. The best way to resolve the difficulty, Alec thought, was to avoid it. Dolk did have something that would interest the human. He had bought it off a drunkard fresh from a trip out to the frontier for a pittance — a tall, hot drink.

Dancer used his alien speed to grab and spin Dolk, incapacitating him with a web-like substance from an appendage. Dancer lifted him from the floor feet first. The cocooned, upside-down Dolk swung as Dancer walked. “What do you think?” Dancer asked.

They reached their table in the back. Dancer, with a flick of his arm, attached Dolk to the ceiling. Alec eyed Dolk struggling above the table. “We need to re-evaluate our business relationship.”

The
Saleen
was pockmarked with black spots and missing parts of its bridge level. An army of figures in pressurized suits moved about and made what repairs they could to the damaged hull. The bridge had suffered multiple direct hits, and its crew had been killed instantly.

The
Illia
stood close by and protected her sister ship from the combined marauder/blockade fleet. Bow weapon systems, coordinated by turret crews on both vessels, atomized any of the opposition within firing range.

*

Captain K’Dhoplon remained motionless, watching his bridge crew. He held a pain staff held at his side; it was the size of a ceremonial baton — a short, thick stick with his rank of Captain captured in the scroll work of the design that stretched from end to end. The Captain’s only thought was who would receive its wrath. The bridge crew managed to stay out of the Captain’s range of rage.

Wolfgang Gray paced the floor, datapad in hand. “The question is what did Shackleton actually find in the pyramid, and what is his next move?” Gray continued his monologue, oblivious to his surroundings. He was startled when a white-hot pain crashed into his back, spreading to every bone in his body, and knocking him to the floor. It was so intense, he couldn’t even scream and bit a little into his tongue. The pain staff was lifted and then jabbed once more into Gray’s exposed side, inducing repeated convulsions of his muscles; blood ran from his mouth. Captain K’Dhoplon lifted the staff. “Gray, I have been ordered not to kill you, but I have many other effective ways of dealing with you. You may one day wish I could disregard that one order.”

Monitors around the bridge were filled with cleanup operations. Captain K’Dhoplon ordered a crewmember, “Hail the
Saleen
, and inform them they have until the squadrons are recovered to get underway. They will be ready to leave.”

Gray pulled himself slowly up from the floor. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand. “If Shackleton has the second piece of the inscription, it may or may not be of use to him,” he said defiantly. He braced himself on a console. A technician looked agitated at his presence. Gray bubbled with sarcasm and chuckled. “The respect the crew has for you is certainly astounding.” He turned to the Captain. “I know Shackleton; he’s going to find somewhere to lie low for a while.” Gray eyed the Captain; if he backed off, he would be put down like an animal. His agreement with the Exalted One was the only thing between him and death. Gray looked over to the chipper — that death was fast and gory. He would live only if he produced new weapon technology.

A crewman approached the Captain and handed him a datapad. “Looks like you’re right about one thing, Gray — our agents have spotted the
Quest
on Ferrar.”

An android waitress approached the table. Her smile gleamed at Dancer as she whispered softly into his ear. He nodded and got up. “Excuse me.” The band on stage played a soft rock tune. “I’m on.”

The band’s lone fanboy sat at the front table. He pulled out a device and raised it. The striking element produced a flame and ignited a cloud of gas that had been belched from a neighboring table. The gas combustion sparked the fanboy’s arm and lit up the room. The fanboy tried to get up from the chair but fell instead. He wailed and thrashed on the floor until the bouncer appeared with a large metal pail and put out the fire. The fanboy’s friends picked him up and seated him again, his clothes still smoking as they brushed him off.

Alec picked up a BBQ fork–like utensil from the bin next to him and poked Dolk in the shoulder. “How did Wolfgang Gray know where we were going? The Koty Union doesn’t go to a sector without a reason.”

The band left the stage with the muted applause that consisted of snapping of digits. The holo-set changed; now, it gave the stage the appearance of a city park, and the music of a Gene Kelly musical number started as Dancer made his entrance. He started his tap-dancing performance slowly, blending the styles of Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire, and Gregory Hines. The audience quieted and watched intently.

Dolk wiggled a bit so he could look at Alec. “I did not know it was a secret. You did not say, ‘Tell no one.’”

Alec punctuated his response with jabs of the fork hard enough to leave dimples in the vest Dolk wore. “Next time you’re asked where to find me, you don’t know anything.”

Dancer’s feet blurred as he approached his grand finale. There was great, digit-snapping applause; the four-legged hoofer had wowed the audience. A scantily clad feline humanoid waitress with a few extra curves on her abdomen came toward the table. Alec eyed her from across the café and smiled. “Little more than the fur she was born with...” he murmured.

She arrived as Dancer got back to the table.

“Hi. What can I bring you?” She smiled an inviting smile as she looked from Alec to Dancer and then to the hanging Dolk.

“A knife?” asked Dolk as he tried to wiggle free.

Dancer glared at him and responded, “Nothing for me.”

Alec leaned in. “I’ll have a Techno Mudslide.” A blank look was her only response.

“Milky Way Mocha?”

“I’m sorry. You must pick an item we have on the menu.”

“Ahamay then. Purple.” She left.

Dancer chastised Alec. “You know you cannot order off the menu, so why do you ask for what you know they do not have?"

“It’s because, one of these times, they will answer ‘Yes. Yes, we have a Techno Mudslide for you,’” replied Alec. “Persistence can take you a long way, my friend.”

Dancer spotted another female creature hawking goods and flagged her down.

She had a cigarette-girl tray strapped to her, only she sold lubricants, software upgrades, and fusion packs. Dancer looked over the tray. “Do you have Zyra Three lubricant?” Dancer picked through the items. He took one and read the label. “Put this on his tab.” Dancer indicated Alec. She nodded and left.

The amphibian creature in the middle was taking a beating. Bug eyes, long snout, and droopy ears that flowed down to his shoulders made for quite a sight as the Skiptracers continued to pummel him. Worrell used his upper and lower sets of arms to lift the amphibian from the floor and throw him against the wall.

Worrell loved this part of the job. His partner Gino was happy to let him be the aggressor. They were a couple of friendly guys just trying to make their way in the galaxy. Skiptracing was something they had just fallen into. They had been out drinking one night when Worrell had a disagreement with another patron at an establishment. Worrell was in the middle of beating the creature when a group of security agents arrived. They had assumed Worrell was apprehending the fugitive when they arrived. It was just chance that he didn’t have to fight them, too. In the end, they ended up with a reward and figured it was a cool racket. They would find people for credits, and, if they attempted escape, Worrell could beat them. It was their kind of fun.

Gino poured a bucket of sandy material over the amphibian. “You have credits — yes?”

“Yes, I have. P-p-please, no more.” He took a cloth from his boot. “Have this you?” He handed the pouch up to Worrell and crawled away, dragging his injured body behind him.

Worrell took a diamond from the cloth and held it up to the light. “Good. Boss will like shiny stone.”

Worrell and Gino arrived back at their ship. Gino used the communication console. “We have shiny stone for you.” Worrell looked at the screen, filled with the toad-like face of his boss. Kasdan smiled. “Excellent. I have another job for you. The human Shackleton is late with his payment, and I want you to make an example of him. Take his ship and deliver it to me. I will cut you in on 10% of the sale value of the ship as your pay. He’s here on planet. Understand?” Gino and Worrell panted excitedly.

Dolk pulled against his bindings. “I thought you humans worshiped fortune and glory,” he said. “I have found what millions have dreamt of for more than 9000 standard years, and you treat me like this. You have me swinging around like a child’s toy.”

The waitress came back with the coffee, setting it down in front of Alec, taking special care to show him all her assets. “Anything else… Can I do something for you?”

“Thanks. I think we’re fine.”

He waited for her to leave before smiling and said, “Oh, come on, Dolk. You know what kind of information I want.”

“Yes, but what I have obtained is a star chart to The Eleven Wonders of the Universe” — Dolk struggled even more against his bindings — “including the Chalice of Everything, The Lighthouse of Lanka, and the Emperor’s Hanging Gardens. You can have it for a small fee… Only to cover my expenses, of course.”

Alec looked to Dancer.

“The last time we were here, didn’t we buy a star chart to a world where a race, possibly humans, were looking for others of their kind?” Dancer asked. “The item in question turned out to be a grave marker from Signa Three.” Dancer slowly spun Dolk. “We ended up having to fight our way out of that graveyard planet, full of billions of memorials to the dead and an android army ready, willing, and quite capable of terminating intruders, as I recall.”

Alec smiled darkly. “Yes, very unhappy with us, as I remember. The
Quest
needed substantial repairs when we finally got back to the shipyard. She doesn’t like getting sent on a yoral chase.”

“The star chart will show you the way to a fortune and glory of the First Ones,” Dolk insisted.

Alec laughed. “What am I going to do with that? My race is almost extinct. I’m running down any lead I can find about a migration of my kind to the stars so long ago that it has become a myth.” He took a sip of coffee. “I need to be with my people, Dolk, and they’re dying off from sickness, age, or the hunts.” He stared into his cup. “I’m looking for a human colony, Dolk, one that can save us.”

Alec glanced at the act on stage. A large white screen rolled out on the stage, lit from behind and showing what looked like the silhouette of a human female. He assured himself that it just couldn’t be, as she bent erotically and became one with the music. The audience’s focus wrapped around the hand that grabbed the screen from the back and pushed it aside, revealing Electra, a beautiful human slave girl. She was tall for a human female, at 175 centimeters. Her slender, tanned, and well-muscled body of an athlete twisted as she performed a slow, rhythmic dance, captivating those in the crowd nearest her. Alec focused on the girl intently. She wore what could be best described as a Turkish belly dancer’s costume. The girl’s face was framed by a green chiffon head scarf or shawl and a face veil embroidered with silver sequins. His eyes flashed over the jeweled, plunging, dark-green silk bra embellished with fringe. She wore a v-shaped belt contoured to her hips, a fuller deep-green skirt designed to display her legs up to her hips and giving her free movement. The arm bracelets that adorned her biceps were silver in color, etched with a central circle surrounded by three rings. Alec saw something that disturbed him — slave anklets.