Prisoner of Earthside: A Novella (STRYDER'S HORIZON Book 2) (5 page)

The screams died out. A bunch of grown men, screaming like babies. As far as we could tell our attackers never pursued. I let the throttle back, knowing that run was probably devastating for Old Shepard. Randall Nehalem and Bill Pace just kind of stared over their shoulders, worried by my decision to slow down.

“Now,” I said, “Did anyone catch the names of the jerk wads who attacked us?’

“They were Colonial Officers,” Randall said.

Pace had only a wise remark on his tongue, but he swallowed it and gasped.

“That would make sense since we’re both wanted for murders we didn’t commit.”

Randall glared at me. “I thought you and your whore friend were there to finish the job. Made sense to me after you all went around pestering about that dumb ass Thom Crisp all day. “

“We really were just trying to get access to him, my whore friend happened to be his ex-girlfriend.”

Randall scoffed. He had something to say on the situation, but didn’t share it with us. I was too rattled from the blaster fire to pester him. Not until I had Old Shepard stashed out of harm’s way. Gregor was probably going to delight in the ‘told-you-so’ moments as he took my credits for the repair work.

I watched as Randall nursed the top of his cheek, which had quickly bruised from my fist. His eyes were heavy and glossy as if he couldn’t see what was right in front of him, or out as far as the horizon.

“Sorry about your father,” I said.

“Screw him. He should’ve kept his damn mouth shut.” It sounded like one of the stages of grief speaking.
Kübler
-Ross’s #2. “You work your whole damn life. Throwaway get married to a dumb ass whore and drag your son to a shit-ass planet just to end up dead over a fucking nobody.”

“I thought you said Crisp was a traitor.”

“Yeah, did I? That’s what my dad said. My dad had to be nuts. Had to be. That’s why he was so stupid. Always running his stupid fat mouth to prostitutes.”

Pace mumbled, “How much do you have to pay to get them to listen?”

“So you’re saying your father’s death was because he said the wrong thing, maybe not even the truth, but something that others feared would cause trouble?”

“Are you writing a novel, lady?” Randall fought for more legroom, finally he kicked his heal up over the dash.

“Look, we came to Earthside thinking we’d get to see Thom Crisp, no problem. Once there we’re given the runaround. And what your father says starts to connect the dots for why we would not be allowed to meet with him.”

“Is he really that good looking to you ladies? Guy was all wrecked from the Red Empress. He looked like some one sucked all the joy out of him. He probably got scared your whore friend would think he was ugly and disfigured and called it off. My dad and I had dinner with him a lot.
Too much. Always tons of Grand Officers to salute and pretend I was excited to join Colonial on my validation day.”

“You never said you had dinner with him.”

“Would you have given me a free one had I offered to sneak you two in as my dates?” Randall laughed. “Yeah, had dinner all the time. They kind of carted Crisp around everywhere he went. Said he wasn’t ready to be out on his own. He always looked scared, like he’d just woke up from a nightmare. Always jumpy.”

“What about this other woman? The one they say you killed.”

“Who?”

“Melinda Richards,” I said.

“I don’t know any Melinda Richards. They’re saying I killed my father. Colonial does that don’t you know? They paint you in the worst possible light so that no one wants to be a decent friend and help you out. They all want to turn you in. Then when you’re found innocent they help you change your name and set you up somewhere else. Ever notice that? No one Colonial charges with murder is ever found innocent. It’s not because they are flawless, it’s because they control what we know.”

I’d heard that enough times before from the mouths of
drunk separatists and local Burnsiders. Considering his father’s theories about Thom Crisp it seemed likely his manifesto was passed down to his son.

“Well, they’re saying you’re wanted on the murder of a Melinda Richards and in connection with your father’s.”

Randall let out a huge sigh. “Gee, maybe that means they don’t think I killed my father.” A smile was born and died on his face in less than a second.

“Cut up the next road,” Pace said, breaking from his silence.

“What’s up there?” I asked.

“I’ve got a place we can stop, get a bite to eat and figure out how you’re going to pay me back,
Kimmie Stryder.”

I pulled off the main stretch. Pace’s road was in disarray. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem for Old Shepard but with the
transtar out the absorbers were having a hard time smoothing out the ride. We were all grateful when we reached the destination. I had expected a diner or something. Instead we looked like we had pulled into a graveyard of Old Shepard’s people.

Pace was first out and didn’t look back. He made a b-line for a stubby looking mountain cruiser. It took him a moment to access it. Randall had the idea he was going with him, but Pace only pulled up beside us to bid us adieu. “Thanks for the splendid day,
Kimmie. I’ll be on my way. Try not to bring any more trouble my way. I’ll have an inspector calculate the damage and send you the bill.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, watching Pace gun the old mountain cruiser back down the road we came.

“So what, I’m stuck with you now?” Randall asked.

“Come with me if you want to live.”

“Screw you!” Randall held his ground. It was a long walk to anywhere resembling anything. Maybe he wanted to see if he was a big enough man to beat a woman. 

“Not really an option for you, kid.”

Randall’s knuckles turned white. I imagined I’d crack his self-esteem if I kicked his ass.  That was the only hesitation in his eyes. He was worried he couldn’t actually take me. I doubt he was ever trained for combat, and maybe he’d never been in a fight.

“Well, what’s your wonderful little plan to make this all work out nicely?” he asked.

“Is there anyone that can get us to Thom Crisp.”

“Ugh!” Randall threw his arms up and released his clenched fists. “Who cares about Thom Crisp anymore?”

“I still believe he’s the key to this puzzle. Don’t you think it’s a little odd that no one is allowed to see him except the higher up Colonials? Don’t you think that job could’ve been pawned off on some one lower on the food chain?”

“Well, no one is going to help me now. Everyone thinks I killed someone.”

“They might not help you, but I know a few people who they might be willing to help. So my question is, who’s likely to let someone meet with Crisp?”

“No one. If you’re right then they’re all suspect, right?  But I’ll do you one better. I know what floor of the Templar’s Stairs that they are keeping him on. You’d be crazy to try and break in there, but who am I kidding you look like a bat out of hell.”

The easiest way into Earthside is, of course, the most expensive. But my credits were pretty taxed by posting Alice’s bail. The second easiest wasn’t the most comfortable.  It was also pretty damn chilly if you ask me.

Alice’s chattering teeth were louder than my own, and therefore making the trip a bit more annoying than clinging inside a cargo haul would normally be.

The one thing Earthsiders had to have that Burnside was full of was Kirmine, a booze so potent and frilly that it could only be considered a classy way to be intoxicated. I was never a huge fan of it, but it served its purpose. Deliveries were so regular that it wasn’t long before we could sneak onboard a shipment and trespass back into Earthside.

I didn’t bother to get permission from the company. They’d appreciate that later when they didn’t lose their distribution license. 

I left Randall Nehalem with Gregor. Gregor was paranoid and took him elsewhere as soon as we left. Gregor, after all, was a known cohort of mine and surely the Colonial would come looking for him when they couldn’t find me.

I was feeling like that snowball again. Ice cold with the stress of the situation growing and growing. There was a tiny voice in my head saying I could make it all work out. I could fix it. But the rest of my mind was loudly proclaiming that I was screwed.

Alice’s teeth stopped chattering. My first thought was that she had frozen stiff. But then I realized she was trying her best to be silent. There was a new echoing sign in the cargo haul. Some one was inspecting the Kirmine.  They had soft steps, but it was hard not to miss them on the metal grates just over our head.

Alice looked at me for permission to attack. I appreciated the thought, but I was really hoping we wouldn’t have to commit any more crimes en route to proving our innocence.

The steps stopped.

They had to be close, but I couldn’t get a good view. I just hoped we’d worn the appropriate attire and were blending in with the darkened pipes running beneath the cargo haul.

The feet turned and walked straight over to where we hid. My heart raced as I bit down on my lip hoping to stop my own set of chattering teeth.

“What is it?” asked a voice not belonging to the pair of feet overhead.

“I thought I heard something,” the feet said.

“Turn a blind eye, buddy. Jeff said we had rats last week. Meant to have them exterminated, but you know, they got me running double shipments. Where’s the time for that?  We aren’t due for a health inspection for another month so forget about it.”

“Rats, I hate rats. How the hell did they follow us to this planet?”

The steps moved away.

Alice let out a sigh.

A sigh like thunder.

The metal grates above our head went completely still.

“Air release,” said one of them.

“I don’t think so,” said the other.

It was so cold I thought of ending the charade and revealing myself and asking for a bath in hot cocoa. One can control a lot of things, but sometimes that one chatter of the teeth is unstoppable.

“Rats.” He told the other one again.

“Remember the crap they gave us when they thought the
Dessup Gang was sneaking in and out of Earthside because of us?”

“Leave it be, buddy-boy.”

I could feel the tension swelling between the two men.

“What are you hiding?” the suspicious one asked.

“None of your damn business. But it’s not against the law, I think.”

“Oh hell! Don’t you dare drag me into any nonsense.”

“I’m trying not to. Just go keep your mouth shut.”

“Don’t you tell me what the hell I should
do. You are going to bring us all down.”

“No, damn it. If you must know I’ve got a live
jhornosp onboard. You know no one sells them in Earthside, you need more than a license to, well we’ve got tons of wild ones all through Burnside. The law is just selling, not possession. I can give one to some one. That’s what I’m doing.”

There was a long moment of silence from the suspicious one, and then he walked away.  The loud sigh came from his co-worker, the
jhornosp smuggler before he walked off as well.

The
jhornosp smuggler.

It repeated in my head a couple of times before my frozen brain began to feel real uncomfortable. Alice had already begun shifting her weight hoping to keep her guard up.

Jhornosp were about as big as an average man’s abdomen.  They moved by flattening out their bodies and slinking along. They had lots of teeth, they were like a bag full of teeth, that flattened and puffed itself out looking for its next meal.

Jhornosp
will eat anything. They just have to make it edible first. And that’s the part that turned my stomach. Other critters will just bite you, but the jhornosp slimes you. Then your flesh starts to sprout what looks like a salmon-colored fungus, but is actually spores of ammonia.  They pop if you scratch them. And it doesn’t end there. If you don’t scratch them you’ll have a more delightful time, but you’ll end up a meal regardless. Now if you happen to scratch, because you were unaware that a jhornosp kissed you, or because you couldn’t take it anymore and would rather not wait out the process of becoming food, well then you got to feel and smell the change in your body. In about thirty-five minutes you go from itchy to incapable of committing suicide. Your bones turn to mush and your nociceptors turn the volume knob to eleven, which makes you very aware of the pain you’re experiencing. Once each nerve in your body pops, you’ll be numb, and alive, and ready for eating. Jhornosp are always alone until food is ready, and then they slide out of every nook and cranny you never knew existed.

It was dark where we hid. Only the light from the metal grates gave any definition to the shapes between us. I just hoped the rats were real, and the
jhornosp had already prepared its meal.

To think I’d almost thanked the man for trying to get his suspicious buddy to move along. A part of me really wanted to scream for them, beg them to protect us, arrest us. I think Alice was having the same thought.

Then I heard a sound.

I’d heard it before, only that was before I could relate it to the information I had just learned. There was a
jhornosp stashed beneath the metal grates with us. I really didn’t want to die like that. I began to make my way beneath the grates. I had this brilliant idea that I would kill it and somehow avoid getting licked.

I think when fear is at its strongest we do things that sound thought out in our heads, we even convince ourselves this is the best available option. But I really hadn’t put much thought in how to manhandle and kill a
jhornosp in such a tight space.

The sound grew louder as I was headed in the right direction. Above the metal grates the cargo had blocked out any light. I moved into darkness. I stopped, bobbing my head from side to side in hopes of letting enough light down my path to see where I was headed. Then I saw its meaty flesh, breathing.

The jhornosp could be no further than a meter away. It turned towards me. All those thoughts about this being a good idea soiled my pants. But I knew I couldn’t scurry back. I had to face it. I had to hope I wouldn’t be licked.

I panicked. I hyperventilated. I didn’t move until my brain cracked and the light behind my shaking head revealed a glimmer of hope.