Black Hull (17 page)

“Don’t get too excited. Happy endings
rarely happen for one, let alone three people,” Sera said, coldly watching them
look at each other.

“What about the expancapacitor rigs?”
Mick asked.

“Mick, don’t you know that Glisreel 5 is
one of the wealthiest sectors in all of M82?” XJ chimed in. “It’s practically
an entire world of expancapacitors.”

“So does that mean less stops?” he
asked.

“It means if you don’t fuck this up,
it’s our only stop. Then back to Carner’s, then to your T-jump, and then to
Utopia.”

“How many do I have to kill?”

“Rates are down—an influx—I don’t know
why. We’ll need six, and we’ll need
you
to pull your weight,” Sera said,
her last words directed to Axa.

Society and empathy have evolved for
thousands of years. Could I have guessed that corruption would continue to
evolve alongside them?

“GR and I had a wonderful idea about how
to gain additional funds. Would you like to hear about it, Sera?” XJ said over
his stew.

She eyed her father suspiciously.

“Here it is: XJ will be hosting a chess
tournament on Glisreel. The winner will earn everyone’s entrance fee,” GR
proclaimed gleefully.

“And you think you can win it all?” Mick
asked XJ.

“Mick, I’ve been playing chess for eight
hundred years. I think I can win a planet-wide tournament.” XJ seemed offended.

“Sounds like everything’s working out,”
he said, returning to his food.

Sera smiled, looking at her crew:

“Sounds like it and looks like it are
far from the same thing.”

Alien eyes studied Mick through a smoky
barroom haze. He glanced back anxiously at his rude observers.

I am out of place here. A god damned
magnet. C’mon Axa. What’s taking you so long?

One long-jawed man chuckled, watching
Mick fidget, and then started to whisper in the ear of another misshapen head.
Mick peered down the thin corridor that led to the bathroom stalls.

Where the hell is she? Seven o’clock
sharp my ass. Too much heat in here, too hot with wandering eyes.

The bar counter, rimmed with beveled
diamond, elicited the wealth of Glisreel. Even for a dive, the place was
gorgeous, but it was too thick with smoke—unbearably thick—and Mick had trouble
appreciating its finer points. A foul stench accompanied the fog, the body odor
and murderous intentions of its patrons.

A figure walked over to Mick, pushing
smoke into tiny gyres. The voice came from his backside, startling him:

“Hey,” said a dry, cracking voice. “My
friends and I are wondering—and we don’t mean to be too forward—who the hell
are you?”

If the creature was a cellbot, he was
deformed: a portion of his long jaw, revealed in gaseous light, protruded with
welts and crusted knobs. At one point, the jaw itself disappeared, leaving a
hideous mound of exposed gums. His eyes glistened with malcontent. He licked
his dry lips, analyzing the expression on Mick’s face, counting the time it
took him to reply.

The wealthiest system—some come to enjoy
their wealth here, and some to squander it. There is something familiar in
this. This one sees a dollar sign on me.

Mick looked away, avoiding prolonged
exposure to the traumatizing sight.

“Just waiting for a friend.”

“Never seen you in Glisreel City before.
Where are you from?”

“It’s a big city,” Mick said, still
looking away.

“You have a hard time giving direct
answers. You don’t want to go that way with me, understand?” pressed Longjaw.
Mick felt warm breath curl against his neck.

“I’m visiting—from off world.”

“Off world you say? That was our guess.
You don’t seem like a trickler to me.”

“Sorry, am I bothering you? I can wait
outside.”

“No, no. You stay right there. I’ll let
you be. Last question—what ship did you come in on? There’s a couple new
bounties out tonight. I want to make sure
you
aren’t one of them.”

Mick paused long enough to suggest
guilt.

C’mon, quick—you’re a good liar—feed him
something.

“Ship? A heavy transport.”

“What’s her name, friend?” came the
parched voice.

Mick turned to look again at the
monster. Over Longjaw’s shoulder, through clouds of grey, he saw two voyeurs,
two sets of eyes watching vigilantly his every move.

“You know—I’m trying to remember her
name. I hop around a bit. Fringe world mining, you know? Go where the ore’s
good.”

Mick fondled his pistol under his shirt.

Walk away gum face. It’s not a good day
to fuck with me.

“There hasn’t been a mine in this system
for a hundred years.”

“Not that folks like yourself would know
about,” Mick smiled. He forced an artificial laugh.

“You stay put. You see my friend over
there?” Longjaw asked. He pointed to one of the hunched figures visible through
the grey.

Military uniforms haven’t changed much.

“Yea.”

“He’s UCA Bounty Division. So we’ll run
your plant, and then leave you alone. Hell—I’ll buy you a round. That okay by
you?”

Don’t act guilty. Keep hand on gun.
You’re going to have to leave her.
Reason replied:
Where the hell are
you going to run? Some back alley? You know as much about the layout of this
city as you do Utopia.
Fight or flight replied:
I can dodge them, find
the Fogstar, leave the planet.
 Reason rebuffed:
You’ll have worse
than these thugs after you—you’ll have Sera.

“Listen—I didn’t want to say anything,
but I’m UCA military myself. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get back to my
drink.”

“Really, why didn’t you say something?
What’s your name?”

Real or fake?

“Mick Compton.”

“Well Mick—we’ll just punch you in and
my apology will be in order.”

Before Mick could reply, Longjaw walked
away, smoke swirling to follow him. He looked back to the bathroom corridor:
Axa strode into view, walking fast toward him.

“How’d it go? Did you get yours?” she
asked calmly, brushing white powder from her shoulder.

“Yea. Two. They’re on the ship already.
Listen—I think we’re fucked. Someone is tagging me for a bounty.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look behind me—mangled jaw—what’s he
doing?”

Axa stared into the stinging film. The
figures seemed to be checking a handheld computer terminal.

“I don’t know, looks like they’re on the
net—what’s going on?”

“We run on my word—straight to the
Fogstar—you got me?”

“What about Sera?”

“You want to die today?”

“Your word.”

The bounty officer handed Longjaw his
terminal computer. Longjaw studied it, then returned to Mick.

Maybe they’re off the scent. Bad files.
Name somehow registering from a thousand years ago without dates attached.

“And who’s this fine-figured lady?”
Longjaw asked, terminal dangling at his side.

“Your girlfriend for a fine-figured
piece of plastic,” she replied, working hard not to grimace at the grotesque
opening along his mouth.

Distract him. Take him out of here. Let
me get the hell away.

“For you, I’d just about pay anything.
But don’t consort with this one—he might be tainted.”

Mick’s face turned red.

“What?” he said, taking a step toward
the door. Longjaw drew a pistol and aimed it at Mick’s head.

“Mick Compton? Sure is military—problem
is friend, he died in the 3100s. Nice try. You’re coming over for a plant
check.”

Mick pointed his hidden pistol at
Longjaw. He looked at Axa, signaling her that he was going to fire and run—his
finger climbed the trigger underneath his shirt.

“Are you sure this can’t wait? I don’t
know if I’m going to be able to cancel my next appointment,” Axa said.

“Bitch, you can wait. And if you don’t,
I’ll buy you out. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” he smirked.

Buy her out? His alone—his red-jawed,
lascivious sickness. Keep it going Axa.

“I’d like for you to buy me out.”

“What?” said the man, confused. “What’s
this about? He mean something to you?”

“Him?” she acted.

“Sit down whore. Don’t go anywhere.”

All eyes watched them now. Mick couldn’t
wait any longer. As Longjaw turned slightly away, distracted by Axa, he pulled
his gun out:

“Drop it,” Mick said. Longjaw laughed.

“Do you think that’ll work?” he grinned.

“It might, and that’s enough for me. Now
drop it, or lose the rest of your jaw.”

“See behind me? No—really—it’s not a
trick. Take a look.” Mick flicked his eyes. Longjaw raised his own gun and
pointed it squarely back at Mick. “They’re both squaring pistols at you too.
Did you see it? How do you like three-to-one odds?”

“I see it.”

“So why not calm down? We’ll check your
plant, then you’re free. Nothing to hide here, no reason to get hurt.”

“There is nothing to hide. You see, I am
Mick Compton. I am from the 3100s.”

 Longjaw bellowed. “Okay. You can’t
say I didn’t try to reason with you.”

Blasts sounded. A pistol fired twice.
Mick dropped to the floor. Blood pooled. Axa fell and groped along the ground,
struggling to see what was happening above the smoke line. Another shot fired.
A scream, long and shrill, tore through the bar. A hand came down through the
smoke and tugged Axa up, then attempted to rouse Mick.

“Let’s go!” Sera said. “Didn’t I tell
you not to hang here and wait for her? Back to the ship! Do you think I make
suggestions lightly?”

Mick stepped over bleeding bodies strewn
between the tables, one of whom, groaning, he recognized as Longjaw. His two
friends, the UCA officer and a plainclothes man, lay slumped on top of each
other, dead.

“You saved us,” Axa said. They exited
into the sweltering heat of a Glisreel afternoon. She ignored the praise and
pulled them through a winding city alley in the direction of their spaceport.

“But you’ve killed us anyway. I’ve been
at this for how many years and never tainted my plant? We’re as good as dead
now.”

“You’ve killed before, why would it be
tainted now?” Mick asked.

“I just shot three people in the head in
the span of ten seconds. One military. In Glisreel City. That’s it. We’re
fucked. Too much too fast. My circulatory mods won’t prevent a taint this
time.”

Circulatory mods? So a plant isn’t a
plant—it’s dependent upon modifications. Could she have been killing these
damned expancapacitors herself?—is she using me as a safety measure? A pawn?
Reason broke:
You’re
each other’s pawns.

They arrived at the spaceport and Sera
barked orders at them.

Not the time to ask questions.

 The ship lifted into red-gold sky.
Sera seated herself at the cockpit and drew the pilot stick back. The ship
rocked back and shot up, driving the crew down into their seats.

“Shit,” Sera said plainly.

“What is it?” Axa asked.

Mick didn’t need an explanation—he’d
seen the blip the moment it had lit up.