Hard Hope

“I’m sorry, Ms Sagan, but we have no record of deposit. If you give me the information, I’ll check with the forwarding department.”

I lifted my head, blinked. No… record?

“Judiciary.” I whispered, then cleared my throat, and repeated it, louder. “Judiciary, Accounts.” I tried to think of the relevant information and babbled. “Rhianna Sagan versus Peero… um… bounties payable? Mission dispensation? Fuk!” My hands went to my hair and I tugged in frustration. Six million, three hundred and five thousand credits gone from my account. Stolen by that miserable, low life, cheating, psychopathic, greedy Rahman!

The woman gave me a bland look, her fingernails clicking on the board.

“Okay, okay.” I breathed organising my thoughts. “I’m a bounty hunter. My latest bounty, Peero, was adjudicated this morning.” She nodded, but continued to type.

Oh, I was so going to hunt Rahman Chezerain down. I was going to hurt him, make him suffer before I dropped him into a nice, fiery sun. How dare he steal from my private account? It was sacrosanct!

Sure, bounty hunters pulled stunts on one another, but nothing malicious, nothing dangerous and nothing illegal.

“Here we go.” She murmured and leaned in closer to the screen. I barely heard her. Rahman was a dead man. I cared not a jot for his threat against my life. I would get to him first. I would strip everything from him: his money – of which some was mine – his ship, his reputation, his everything.

I paced as I envisioned it all.

“Oh, I see.” The woman said into the com mic she wore hooked to her ear. “No, keep going.”

Rahman begging; Rahman realising I was going to kill him; Rahman with a look of rage on his face as I went after his assets; Rahman as I destroyed his reputation and he couldn’t get any work; Rahman as I…

“I’ll let the client know.”

… blew his beloved Star Mistress away. No, as I took legal control because he couldn’t afford to keep her. I felt a smile twist my lips. Ex-lover and partner, soon to be ex-tinct.

I realised the woman was talking to me.

“… so I guess that’s it then.”

“What? What? I’m sorry I was…”

“Plotting revenge?” She said with raised eyebrows.

I stared at her. “How did you… I didn’t know banks employed telepaths.”

She raised her eyebrows. “They don’t… or not that I know of. It’s the look on your face. The one of a spurned woman out for blood.”

I flushed at that. This was the second time someone had mentioned… co-incidence; had to be.

She cleared her throat. “I was saying that the Judiciary Imbursement Bureau had a glitch and that all transactions were suspended.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the JIB doesn’t know what happened, or when. They won’t until tomorrow. Their techs are working on the problem, but they have to backtrack all applications to transfer, deposit and withdraw. The financial security experts will be investigating. I’ve already issued an alert.”

“So JIB will find Rah… the evil bastard who stripped my account.”

“Absolutely.” She tilted her head. “I don’t know how the perpetrator did it, but the investigators are the best in the business. They’ll find the villain and the credits.”

“Thank you.” I said with heartfelt sincerity. “In the meantime, can I change the account?” She shook her head. “How about create a new one?”

“That we can do.”

* * *

Rahman. Named after some forebear, he’d told me once. Supposedly, it meant ‘merciful’. Me, I always thought it a sophomoric joke, like ‘rah, rah, man!’ That he’d fallen back on an old nickname rather than tell anyone his real name; including me, the woman he professed to love. At the time, I thought it cute; he was one of the good guys.

But I’d seen his official licence and it said Rahman Chezerain. Real or not, the best place to start was the top layer of identity and work down to the core of his existence.

This hunt, however, would have to wait until I secured financing. My plans for a major upgrade of the Blue Dragon’s systems… fuel and air bills, docking fees, supplies, my future, all hung on what I decided next.

Oh, I could easily imagine Chezerain laughing up a storm at my predicament. And I knew he’d think it hilarious to push me to do the one thing I’d vowed never to do: access my inheritance.

My father, Ryan Sagan, multi-billionaire, corporate icon, warmonger, psychopath, wife-killer and child abuser, left me… a lot of money.

Blood money. Hush money. Payment for being his child-whore - not because of any remorse.

I found a bar along the dockside, slid onto a seat and ordered.

“Benedict’s.” I growled and the autobot filled a shot glass, placed the viscous black liquid in front of me. I slapped a five credit on the sticky bar surface.

I lifted the glass. Before I changed my mind, I downed it all. It was like swallowing pure chilli sauce: fiery, thick and eye-watering. “Again.”

Three drinks later, I felt a little calmer. At least my hands stopped shaking enough for me to burn with resentful thoughts.

To access the inheritance, I had initiate contact with the account. That meant DNA, retinal and tissue match with the samples held at whatever bank. Because I didn’t know what institution, it also meant visiting my uncle, who now ran Sagan Enterprises, to find out.

My lip curled with distaste. Randall Sagan had the same proclivities as my father, though not to Ryan’s excess. And yes, he’d enjoyed my screams of terror and pain as much as his brother.

I pointed to my glass, my whole body shuddered with memories.

“Consumer warning.” The autobot intoned. “Excessive consumption of alcohol will impair judgement.”

“Like I give a shit.” I glared at ‘bot and pointed to the empty tumbler.

I sipped the concoction, grimaced as my tongue went numb. Benedict’s Black Fire should be downed in one swallow, not rationed like a rare wine. But the ‘bot’s warning eased my distress at facing Randall.

There had to be another way.

I had other accounts, under other names. Getting to them… that was the problem as none of them were held on Columbus. If Rahman knew of them, he’d strip them too.

Did I have enough fuel and supplies to reach the nearest on Wayfarer? I did some rough mental calculations. Only if I went without food, water and air for three days and then shut down the engines to cruise ballistic to the orbital station. I could sequester myself in the shuttle for a week…

I tossed back the drink. In space, minor errors could be deadly.

“I’ll have another, please.”

“Warning: Consumer will exceed recommended level of alcohol consumption.”

“Just give me the damned drink!”

“Warning: Aggressive behaviour will be reported to the nearest authorities.”

Lords of Space spare me from over conscientious autobots! But a night in lockup was one night I couldn’t afford. I couldn’t afford to be downing drinks, either. I rubbed my eyes and sighed.

“May I have some coffee, please?”

The autobot hummed as if agreeing caffeine was the best thing for me. It placed a steaming cup and saucer in front of me.

After a sip, a new thought occurred to me; one that didn’t involve a re-acquaintance with my sick and twisted uncle.

* * *

The black business suit changed my attitude as well as my look. Gone were the functional, multi-pocket trousers, the mud-green t-shirt and black combat boots. In their place, I wore a grey, Mandarin-collared shirt, tight waist-length, lapel-less black jacket, knee length skirt and high heels with anti-grav tech for that ‘walking on air’ feeling.

While I looked like the professional businesswoman, I also loaded up with weapons – ceramic based knives; no point in setting off the alarms. The small, square bag held all the documents I needed, and more ceramic weaponry.

Dockside, I made some calls and caught a tram downtown to the business sector.

The Sagan building rose four hundred stories into the cloudless blue sky. Not the tallest building in the city, but close to it. It covered four blocks and narrowed at every story to flat broad penthouse. Up there is where Randall sat, overseeing a vast empire of millions of employees galaxy-wide.

I walked into the glittering foyer. Glass, mirrors, and water, all reflected ambient light to sooth and calm workers and visitors as they went about their business. Ryan Sagan built his empire on the ashes of war, poverty, interstellar transport and government contracts.

I eschewed the receptionist counter and strode to the private, family-only elevator, pressed my thumb against the single button.

The elevator stopped on floor 327. Far enough from Randall, but still too close for my personal comfort. I stepped out onto dove grey carpet and turned left, away from the rabbit warren of workers. I checked the signs and followed one to the Under-Manager, Corporate Finance. I didn’t need to see Randall for the account, I could register with the Finance Department and they’d give me access.

The receptionist, all buffed blonde and immaculate tailoring, looked up at me from her terminal. “May I help you?”

“I’d like to see Ms Carpenter, please.” I said in my best professional voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. But…”

“Then I’m afraid she won’t be able to see you now. Can I ask you name and a time for…” She checked her diary. “Next Tuesday?”

In lieu of an answer, I reached into my bag and pulled out my identification, handed it to her.

“Bounty Hunter?”

I cleared my throat. “Check the name on the licence.”

She looked again, her skin paled slightly. “I’ll see if she’s available, Ms Sagan.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to reach the doors of the inner sanctum and open them for me. “Could I offer you some refreshment?”

“No, thank you.” I smiled and turned away from her.

Sarah Carpenter oozed competence: intelligent, piercing grey eyes, short, easy-care sable brown hair, cool expression, wrinkle-free, expensive clothes and a firm handshake.

When I told her what I wanted, she happily obliged; filled out forms, checked my identity and handed over a copy of the portfolio. I thought it just one account, but she’d managed one account into a portfolio of term deposits, shares and investments. I liked her.

With a smile of thanks, I went back to the elevator, glowing with success. The money was mine, I didn’t have to see Randall, and I could get away from the teeming hordes and hunt Rahman down.

I pressed the down button and read the first page of the documents. Sarah’s acumen boosted the bottom line by over fifty percent in the last five years. Under-Manager? She should get a promotion!

The elevator doors opened and I immediately knew something was wrong. No foyer noise, no sound of people coming and going, just the quiet of a private floor.

I slowly lifted my eyes and felt my heart pound with fear.

Randall stood in front of me. He lifted a remote, waved it. “Shame you didn’t use the public elevator. I can’t over-ride that.”

I ignored his polite smile, stared into his eyes. What I saw chilled my blood.

“Surely you didn’t think to leave without saying hello to your favourite uncle?”

© Copyright Jaye Patrick 2008

Hard Cash

I could stay, or I could run. The Judiciary’s accounting department had my bank details, had the details of all bounty hunters.

Stay? Rahman’s threat hung in the air, paralysed me with indecision, which was his intention.

“You won’t know when, or where, but you’re a dead woman. On planet or in space. Or even as you step outside this building…”

Rahman’s words echoed in my head and I stuck out my lower lip. He started it! A plaintive voice reminded me.

Ex-partner, ex-lover, Rahman stole bounties from me, failed to render assistance when he knew damn well I needed it, subverted my navcom – an act of piracy – and tried to claim my bounty for his own.

The anger returned in a surge.

Run? I could think of no place that would afford me sanctuary, no planet, satellite or friend that Rahman didn’t know about; and I’d really pissed him off this time. He saw me as a challenge and this was the ultimate test: who would kill whom? Who was the best? All my bets were on… me.

I turned to the door where the judges had vanished. If they didn’t hurry, Rahman Chezerain would disappear, too.

Once the judges saw the mission brief, they’d issue a warrant for him. Rahman damned himself. If he’d read the new requirements, he knew recorded mission briefs were legal tender. Too many convicts escaped through bribery and anyone could give out tissue samples as proof of their demise, vanish into the galaxy at large.

Not anymore. Mission briefs were the way of the future and while it annoyed me to have every action accounted for when I took on a bounty, for once I was grateful.

But Rahman’s talents were as good as mine. He understood me – damn it - knew how I worked, otherwise, he’d never have found me on Helios.

It took three hours for the judges to reach a verdict. Three hours in which my butt went numb from the metal seat and my mind had sunk into a kind of fugue state.

“All rise!” One of the guards intoned, as if he, too, was bored shitless.

I got to my feet, rubbed my ass to get the circulation moving again and faced the seven judges as they walked back into the chamber.

The Irati’s three eyestalks turned to me.

“It is the judgement of this court,” he said in his monotone, “that a bounty of six million credits be paid into your account for the discharge of the execution warrant on Peero the Ullarian.”

I opened my mouth to protest. The bounty was seven million, but he held up an appendage.

“The remaining million credits to be held in escrow until Captain Rahman Chezerain can be located and his story confirmed.”

“But…”

“It is the judgement of this court that Captain Chezerain also located the criminal, Peero, and is thus entitled to part of the bounty.”

I gaped at the Irati, stunned.

“It is not in the purview of this court to mediate between warring couples, Hunter Sagan. Should you need mediation, then there are counsellors available.” One eyestalk moved to look at the human judge who nodded. The eyestalk returned.

“Captain Chezerain did not harm you in any way and though we deplore his actions, the removal of the criminal Peero from existence was of the utmost priority, as was notification of same to this court. Perhaps next time, you should talk with your… significant other and heed his words.”

I was enraged. There were so many things I could have said, but “He’s not my spouse!” jumped out instead.

The human judge cleared his throat. “We understand that the dissolution of the relationship happened recently, and that tempers can often get in the way of good judgement. We have taken that into consideration.”

“He threatened to leave me in space! Without a navcom. He tried to assume the bounty! He lied to you!” I stepped forward, my fisted hands rising. Then I heard the unmistakeable tone of a gun acquiring its target and moved back. I glanced over my shoulder to the guard aiming at me.

“Sorry, Your Honours.”

The human judge frowned as if unsure of my apology. “We will raise issue with once the Captain returns for his part of the bounty.”

I couldn’t believe it. I just… couldn’t… I dragged in a deep breath. Six million credits were better than no credits. I could live with it.

“He’s promised to kill me for contesting the bounty.” I said, my voice dull.

“If you wish to obtain a restraining order, the Domestic Dispute Department will take care of that for you.”

I looked at the human judge and the sympathy clearly written on his face.

“How can you do this? How can you not warrant him, for what he’s done?”

“Do not presume to tell us our job, Hunter.” The Irati said. “You will agree that at no stage did you see Captain Chezerain issue any threats, only heard what could have been his voice through the ship’s speakers, or a voice synth. We have no absolute proof that Captain Chezerain made those threats. At no stage, in fact, do we have proof he was there, in person. And as he is not here to defend himself, or offer an explanation, we can only judge on what evidence is available.”

The Irati leaned forward, placed his appendages on the bench. “Hunter Sagan, we understand how traumatic a dissolution can be. Former spouses often seek revenge for assumed hurt. My advice is that you have no contact with Captain Chezerain and resume your career.”

He leaned back. “This court is adjourned.”

A tone sounded to indicate the end of proceedings; the judges’ pronouncement final and no further comment required. They rose, bowed to the court and shuffled out.

Unbelievable. Un-fuking-believable!

Rahman would have left me to die; I had no doubt. But Irati were ferociously patriarchal, disapproved of any female contesting the word of a male. Irati females never left the home planet. The World Council, of course, in an effort at impartiality and according to their non-discrimination laws, granted the Irati equal status everywhere, and that meant the populace had to deal with their prejudice.

I expected better from the human judge, but he might have been a reactionary too. From the judgement, they preferred to explain away Rahman’s actions as a marital spat rather than the genuine crime it was. So much for justice.

At this moment, I hated the judges more than Rahman. There was nothing I could do about the judiciary, but Rahman… oh, yes, him I could take down.

I stormed out of the courtroom and caught a monorail down to the Bounty Hunter headquarters, my temper on a low simmer.

“Way to go, Rhianna, excellent catch.” Bristle Conreif called to me as he stood under the Bounty Board. A full beard covered half his face, matched the bushy black hair on his head. Bristle’s enormous size came from his Norwegian ancestors, his colouring from the Irish ancestors. He and I had joined the Bounty Service in the same month and, surprisingly, remained friends rather than competitors.

I looked up at the large screen. Halfway down, Peero had a red cross next to his name. On the same line, the words ‘paid’ in blood red glowed next to my name. The board listed all the available bounties, and those completed.

“Cha-ching!” Another Hunter called out with a grin as he walked by.

I rolled my eyes.

“So, you ready to partner up, or what?” Bristle asked with a white-toothed grin.

“Bristle, m’boy, if you listened to the mission brief, you’d retract that question.” I replied sourly.

“Isn’t available for twenty-four hours. You wanna celebrate instead?”

I sidled up to him, kept my voice down. “Rahman.” I said and his eyebrows rose.

“What’s he done now?” Bristle looked around to check for an audience.

“Tried to assume the bounty on Peero.”

Bristle pursed his lips.

“In court.” I sneered.

“Whoa. Not good. He in jail?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Judges figured…” I paused. That, I thought, was one embarrassment I didn’t want advertised, but the judgement would be available the same time as the mission brief. “No. He left before the judgement came down.”

Bristle tilted his head. “I’m guessing he scarpered to avoid detention.”

“Worse, he’s coming after me.”

“And you’re such a snuggly creature.” He waggled those thick eyebrows at me and grinned. Here was another Hunter who knew me, knew my moods; but I trusted Bristle.

I slapped his muscled arm. “I mean to kill, not to…”

“Why would he want to kill you?”

I looked at him. “Because he’s unstable, maybe?”

“Let me get this straight: he wanted your bounty, again, you stopped him, and now he wants to kill you for snatching a nice pile ‘o credits that weren’t his to begin with.”

“In a nutshell.”

Bristle shook his head. “I always said, ‘don’t get involved’, but you didn’t listen? No. You had to indulge your hormones and go all gooey-eyed. Now you’re… what? What are you going to do?”

I shrugged. “Not a clue at the moment.” Again, Rahman’s threat rang through my mind. “Once he sets his mind to something…”

“Word of advice?”

I nodded.

“Get to accounting and change your details. Rahman is one slick bastard when it comes to electronic information.”

I stared at him. Then it dawned. “Oh… hell!” I took off running.

Rahman was a genius at information manipulation. If the bounty left an electronic footprint, he’d find it. If I’d been thinking straight I’d have asked the judges to hold the payment until I’d set up something new. But I hadn’t and now…

I skidded to a halt, opened the door to the Zenon Banking Corporation branch and walked, out of breath, to the counter.

“How may I help you?” The middle-aged woman with greying hair pulled back into bun sent me one of those empty, professional smiles.

“I need to check my account.” I said and rattled off the numbers.

“Thumb print, please and DNA comparison.”

My hand shook as I held it out. She lifted the scanner and a green light emerged, slid over my thumb. She pressed the device to the pad and I felt a small sting as the scanner lasered off a dozen skin cells.

“Retinal scan.” She lifted another scanner and I leaned forward, waited for the flash of light.

She turned to the monitor while I rubbed the after-image away, then glanced back at me with a frown.

“The current balance is zero point seven five credits, ma’am.” She said.

Blood rushed out of my head and I closed my eyes against the sudden greying of my vision, held onto the counter and swayed.

“Were you expecting a payment?”

I slowly nodded. “Six million credits.” My voice was a barely audible squeak. I coughed into my hand to ease the tightness. “Today. Six million credits. And my balance should be three-zero-five-zero-zero-zero point one three, before the payment.”

I leaned forward, lowered my head, tried to level my breathing. Passing out was not an option. I wouldn’t give the prick the satisfaction. Not content with the six million, Rahman had stripped my account, left me destitute, stranded on a planet teeming with people.

The bastard had it all.

The Hard Truth

The thought of my ex-lover stealing another bounty from me sent a surge of rage through my system. Yet what could I do? He had control of my navcom, had shifted my shuttle while I healed and without navigation, this far from civilisation…

My fingers worked the control panel. How had he managed it? How had he known I was here, let alone on the planet? And how had he known I required medical treatment?

Answer: he bugged my ship and kept watch from a distance. He’d known I was in trouble and done nothing. Oh, yes. If Peero’s clan found and… eaten me, the tissue and blood samples were his. Shame I’d escaped.

“I’ll tell you what.” His voice dropped to a seductive tone. My lip curled with disdain. He might have bugged my ship, but he hadn’t managed a camera. “You give me the proof, and I’ll release the navcom. Does that sound fair?”

“This is piracy, Rah.” My mind worked at the problems. I had to wrestle back control of my ship or he’d do it again, and again.

“Piracy? You disappoint me, Rhianna. This is negotiation. You have what I want, and I have what you want. Come now, bargain with me.”

“You’re a thief, Rahman, and you’re not going to win this time.”

He sighed with false regret.

“Then I let you sit here for a month and when you’re dead and nicely preserved, collect the sample anyway.”

“Why do you do this to me?”

“Because I can and because you make me wealthy. You’re the best around, sweetheart, now give it up.”

I rotated my neck, hunched my shoulders and stared at the diagnostic screen. All systems, apparently, worked just fine. The bastard had me just where it would make him the wealthiest.

Seven million credits.

Seven million credits in my hot little hands and he’d fernangled it all away from me.

“Rhianna, you know there’s nothing you can do, so just be gracious about it. I’ve won; you’ve lost. Maybe next time, you’ll best me for a change.” I heard the humour in his voice, the doubt I’d ever beat him at his own game.

Every vein pulsed with rage, with frustration. “You understand I’m going to take my revenge, don’t you?” I asked, my voice shaking with emotion.

“Oh, you’ll try, sweetheart, I know that. But hey, there’s always another bounty.”

I rose from the pilot’s chair, slowly. My back ached and twinged, my ankles simply hurt. Dropping from a hundred metres with a faulty grav-unit and sixty kilos of Ullarian did not a happy landing make.

“How do you want to do this?” I asked belligerently.

“Just pop the samples into the air lock. I’ll take it from there.”

The smugness in his tone made me want to…

“And if I destroy them?”

The silence made me hope this game wasn’t over.

“Rah? If I destroy the samples? What then?”

His voice hardened. “Then I leave you out here; alone and without the navcom. And for an added bonus, I shut down all your life support systems.”

“Figured.” I muttered and made my way back to the medical room. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t do that anyway?”

“You… don’t remember what I said to you back on Earth Prime?”

“Before or after I kicked your butt at 3-D Battle Chess?”

Rahman chuckled. I don’t know why, I really did destroy him. But I also remembered his words.

“You said, you’d never met a woman who challenged you so much; and when that challenge was met, our relationship would be over.” I grabbed the samples from the cryonic storage and made my way to the airlock.

“Oh, so you do remember. Well, you’re still as much as a challenge as ever.”

“And yet, you still left me.” I silently cursed myself for letting those words escape. They hurt only me and gave power to him.

“I had my reasons, Rhi.” He said quietly and I thought it the most genuine emotion I’d heard from him yet.

“Samples are in the airlock.”

“Thank you, Rhianna. Now, if you’ll return to the pilot’s station, I’ll release the navcom for you.”

The hell he would. Rahman would take the samples and check they were real, first. But I obliged and slowly walked back.

I sighed with relief as the pilot’s chair conformed and supported my body. I really needed the full medical of the Blue Dragon.

“You really took a beating, didn’t you?” Rahman murmured distractedly.

“Yeah.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Such a wasted effort.”

“Not so, my pretty.” His voice was more robust, filled with satisfaction. “Now the universe is rid of its most wanted. A shame only you and I will know who really put paid to him.”

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Not nearly, Rhi, but that can wait for another time. Ciao, babe.”

My eyes popped open and stared out the star field as I heard a distinct clang. From the left came a white ship with the name Star Mistress in black. The ship grew in my vision then swerved away and as I watched, made for the hyper-limit. The bastard had parasited my shuttle to his ship!

The systems of my shuttle went down, console, lights, life support and I gasped. He wouldn’t… then the system rebooted and I had control of my ship once more.

I bared my teeth at the departing Star Mistress. “Payback, Rahman, is going to be hell.”

The shuttle moved under my guidance. Rahman had parked not far from the Blue Dragon, much to my relief, and I manoeuvred the Dragon’s Egg into the hold of the pointy-nosed mothership.

While I wanted to find that damned bug now, it would have to wait until I’d set course for the World Council and fixed myself properly.

* * *

I’m not much of a fan of over-populated planets, but visiting the teeming megatropolis world of Columbus – named after some ancient mariner, I believe – actually soothed my feelings of isolation.

When you’re in space for a long time on your own, it’s good therapy to get with the masses every now and then, to reconnect with your species and others.

I gave myself three days before I lost my temper with their idiocy.

The World Council sat in a low, square building the size of a small city. It had its own transport system of monorails to ferry the workers and visitors around.

I slung the backpack over my shoulder, hopped a transit headed towards the Judiciary and sat next to an executive, nervously tapping his knees. It’s this kind of irritating behaviour that drives my tolerance for humanity down to zero.

Half an hour later and the man got off. Of course, my stop was the next one.

Two burly guards dressed in the crimson of the Council Guard checked everybody who entered the double doors of the Judiciary.

“Pass.” The one on the left demanded and held out his hand.

I showed him my bounty hunter’s licence and he dropped his hand, ran the micro-detector over me and stepped back. The scanner detected any weapon and the smallest level of accelerant or toxin.

I walked up to the information bay, input the word 'Peero' into the system and the screen showed me where the Warrant Hearing was taking place. The World Council didn’t just assume you’d captured somebody, they wanted to know everything about the capture as well as present proof – hence the samples. Sometimes, they even demanded witnesses. On execution warrants, a sample and a story would do just fine as long as the condemned was dead. And that’s what Rahman counted on. He’d seen me kill Peero, could create his own scenario, unless I stopped him.

And there was no better motive than seven million credits. Rahman should have set a timer for the release of the navcom. Silly him.

I reached the double doors and pushed them open. Peero warranted a full bench. Seven crimson robed judges sat at the bench, glared down at flashily dressed Rahman.

Personally, I thought starship captains who invented their own uniforms showed a certain contempt for the World Council; that Rahman’s was in a deep red only made it worse, as if mocking the judges. He, of course, didn’t see it that way.

“And you believe you got to Peero before he could completely contaminate Helios?” An elderly Human judge with a grey comb over asked.

Rahman crossed his arms. “Yes, My Lord, I followed him down into the desert, landed not far from his ship. I crossed the grassland and into the foothills. I then had to climb a cliff and…”

“Yes, yes, we don’t need a rehash.”

I cleared my throat. “Actually, if it pleases the court, I think we do need a rehash.”

“Madam,” the judge turned his icy gaze on me, “we do not need witnesses in this instance. It’s a simple execution of warrant and Captain Chezerain has biological samples to confirm the kill.”

Rahman turned around, the shock in his eyes turned to warning. I grinned at him.

“Yes, My Lord, but Captain Chezerain left a few important facts out.”

“Indeed?” The Irati judge hummed in a monotone. Long in the face, with three eye stalks set in a triangle, his… her… the pale yellow tentacles that grew out of the back of the head like hair waved in agitation. The mouth was small, drawn in tightly, like a prim schoolmistress.

“Yes, Your Honours.” I took the backpack off and rummaged around. When I pulled out the oblong square I looked up at the bench. “May I approach?”

The Irati waved a pale green appendage.

Rahman stopped me at the gate with a tight hand around my upper arm. “Don’t do this, Rhi, you don’t want me as an enemy.”

“Then you shouldn’t have made a false claim, Rha, and you shouldn’t have stolen from me… again. Now let me go before those nice guards come over and make you.”

His wonderful sea blue eyes narrowed with promised retribution, but he released me.

“You have new evidence?” The human judge asked.

“Yes, Your Honour.” I moved around Rahman and placed the oblong on the bench. “I’m Rhianna Sagan. I took Peero down and here’s the proof.”

The judges looked at it, then at each other.

“As per the most recent instructions of the World Council, I present to you the mission brief.”

Those who had eyebrows, lifted them. Rahman cursed quietly behind me. And so he should. Very few bounty hunters adhered to Council edicts and the Council had learned to work around it in the interests of expediting cases.

I, on the other hand, didn’t want to give anyone any reason to deny me a bounty through lack of evidence or some legal technicality. Rahman, the putz, relied on natural charm to ease his path; he expected people to believe him because he could appear so genuine. And I’d fallen for it on a number of occasions, much to my regret.

“Mission brief?” The Irati intoned and flicked an appendage.

“Yes, Your Honour. From beginning…” I turned around and smiled at Rahman as two guards blocked the door and another two approached him. “…to arriving on Columbus. Full visual and audio.”

“You bitch.” Rahman gaze was venomous.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Rah.” I turned back to the judges.

“We will take it under advisement.” The Irati said.

“It’s a genuine World Council recorder, Your Honours, all sealed and…”

“We will take it under advisement.” The human judge repeated.

“All rise!” The master of the court announced, though there wasn’t anyone else to stand.

The judges filed out. It could take an hour, or it could take a week before they reached a verdict.

I turned back to Rahman. Uh, oh. The guards had returned to their stations, cleared the doors.

He took a step towards me. “The next time I see you, Rhianna, I will kill you.”

I didn’t doubt him, the lethal fire in his eyes saw to that.

“You won’t know when, or where, but you’re a dead woman. On planet or in space. Or even as you step outside this building…” Then he leaned down and settled his mouth on mine, lifted his head. “No woman is worth seven million.” He murmured. “And you were never really that good in bed anyway.”

He walked away before I could reply.

He meant to kill me. I meant to kill him. Let the games begin.

© Copyright 2008 Jaye Patrick

The Hard Way

I heard the echoing ‘loo-loo-loo-loo’ of grief before I cleared the rock field.

Peero did have a large family, and it sounded like every damn one of them had found his remains at the bottom of the cliff.

Ullarians don’t ‘do’ revenge – unless they conclude a death as unjustified. My thinking was Peero’s family would assume the worst and come a’hunting. How? Because Peero had arranged for food for his family – an honourable job – and the food escaped. It wasn’t his fault the intended meal kicked up a fuss, and to kill someone in the pursuit of a noble cause… Yeah, honour required the family to complete his mission.

Bad, bad news for me.

There is a saying that there’s a silver lining to every cloud, but I couldn’t think of one at this particular juncture of time.

The ‘loo-loo-ing’ rose and fell in rhythm, echoed off the cliff face. Were there as many Ullarians as the sound indicated? If so, trouble had reached my neck and was rising.

I kept going. The counter-grav occasionally hiccuped as it propelled me across the landscape. The race to my ship was one I had to win, or end up… digested.

The c-g unit skimmed over rocks, and I concentrated on the direction of the ship. A vague ache throbbed through my legs every time my boots hit or brushed an obstacle. Without the unit, I was dinner.

While in motion, I did a medi-scan and groaned. Busted ribs, both ankles, fractured lower spine, deep contusions, a few cuts… the manual for the Marine counter-grav doesn’t recommend falling off a cliff, especially when you exceed the weight limit. I figured, you know, they underestimated the performance, in case of emergencies.

I guess I was wrong. Peero’s falling on me after I’d shot him definitely overstrained the counter-grav.

My foot hit a rock and the C-G hesitated, hummed then stopped. I fell face forward onto the pebbled ground, cursed before the damn thing righted itself and left me hanging, head down from the waist. Just what I needed: a headache to go with the one I already had.

When I got back to United World Council, I was going to…

The sounds of grieving cut off mid-peak and I felt my blood go cold. The family completed the lamenting of their lost patriarch. Now, they’d come after me. I pushed upright and urged the machine to move forward. It hummed in agreement like a mentally-challenged druggie and complied.

I checked the navigational unit strapped to my wrist. At this speed, it would be dawn before I reached safety.

“Yeah, think positive.” I muttered and thought of the horde behind me.

Ullarians produced multiple offspring in one birthing, sometimes up to a dozen of the little wrigglers. Given that a ‘small’ Ullarian family consisted of thirty or so kids, Peero’s family could be as large as hundred or more.

How do you come up with a hundred-plus names? I wondered as the unit surged then resumed its hiccuping.

To stop and repair it meant death, but I might have to make the attempt anyway.

Out on the crackly grasslands, the unit picked up speed; no major obstacles to think about, I suppose. I would have turned to scan the terrain for hostiles, but anything that stopped my forward momentum gave metres to the pursuers. Worse, the Ullarians could run faster on four limbs than I could on two – two working legs, that is – so I had to get to the sand dunes as fast as possible and hope the shifting sands slowed them down.

Over the humming and occasional buzz of the counter-grav I heard the Ullarians:

“Say-gan. Say-gan. Say-gan.” The sound was so soft and whispery, it creeped me out. I’m not usually afraid of the night, but this rhythmic hush of words out here in the dark wilderness…

I knew Ullarians used the technique to terrify prey, hell, it worked just fine on me; the constant sound coming ever closer, ever louder, until you knew they were right behind you and panicked.

My jaw clenched to keep the fear at bay, but my imagination wove a scary scenario without effort on my part. With no visible landmarks to show me how close freedom was, my mind was filling with wrong directions, and worse: A hundred Ullarians, with their razor sharp teeth, multi-fronded green skin and multi-digited limbs, all reaching out to rend me into raw, bloody food.

The whispers grew louder, a monotone of hypnotic sound filled with murderous intent.

The hair on the back of my neck stayed down, so they weren’t close yet, but I activated a five hundred metre proximity alert on the navigational unit. It would at least give me time to kill myself before those ani… Ullarians got their hands on me.

As I moved forward, I checked the ammunition in my gun. I had enough to take on maybe a quarter of them, not enough to escape. Two choices then: shoot myself, or lift the filter mask and take a deep breath of the Ullarian-poisoned atmosphere.

“Bugger.” I re-holstered the weapon.

When I get out of here, I’m buying a RAS.

A Remote Activation System allowed a pilot to bring a ship to them, and not worry about running flat out to it. Too late for me now.

Hell, with the bounty in my hot little hands, I wouldn’t have to work again. I could retire to a beach somewhere.

I huffed out a small breath. Who was I kidding; I loved bounty hunting. If I had my way, I’d never retire until someone retired me. Which brought my thoughts to Rahman.

Rahman Chezerain: handsome, manipulative, ruthless, generous, arrogant, clever, brave, foolish, funny, violent, greedy and my competition.

Once upon a time, we’d been partners in business and lovers, but when you add two dominant personalities together, all you get is tears in the end because compromise is so difficult. I can’t say how many times we fought, how many times we made up or how many times he made me cry – with frustration, with betrayal, or anguish.

The relationship ended with me telling him with perfect rage-filled sincerity: “One day, I’m going to kill you.” He’d stolen a bounty from me.

He’d smiled with genuine amusement and bowed. “One day, I might just let you.”

In that one moment, I hated him with a pure passion and I watched him walk away. In retrospect, I should have been the one to walk away. By letting him do it, I left the door open for his return. I should have killed him right then.

But… I couldn’t help but wish he was nearby, but he, like the other hunters, searched on the water worlds for Peero, since Ullarians preferred humid, liquid worlds and not the dry desert planets like Helios; and that made Helios perfect as a hideout for the convicted World Killer.

There would be no last minute rescue for me, unless I did the rescuing.

Desiccated grass snicked against the toes of my boots; not a good sign. The counter-grav unit was failing, lowering, but I had to keep forward momentum going until the last moment. After that, I was down to crawling.

Out here, on the grasslands, I couldn’t hide. Ullarians were excellent hunters and they’d be on me like white on rice in a jiffy if I stopped moving.

Their cries increased in volume but the proximity alert remained silent. It could be there were more than I first thought. How ‘big’ was Peero’s idea of a big family anyway? Or was it a smaller group and they were getting closer.

Touch down, or should I say crash down, happened a mere two hundred metres from the edge of the grassland, some three hours later.

My boots finally ran into something they couldn’t bounce out of the way and over I went. It’s like tripping unexpectedly. You have no time to brace yourself and… hell, I did trip! Splat, roll, thump, clamp the jaw to stop screaming in agony.

I lay there; just… lay there and wondered when the painkiller had worn off. Oh, and how I was going to escape the ravening horde. As a side benefit, the proximity alert finally went off.

“Oh… joy.” I said to the murky sky.

If the c-g had lasted a little bit longer, the sand would have slowed them down, damn it!

I envisioned the swarm of Ullarians racing towards me. I cursed myself for this hunt when I knew I’d need help. And I cursed the malfunctioning equipment.

My feet and legs hung just above the ground by maybe a centimetre, if not less, bobbed as the c-g kept humming and buzzing and jerking and spasming. I rested on my shoulders and the back of my head. The unit’s only use now was to keep my legs and back in traction, but it was useless as a weapon.

I reached down then paused. I’d sworn I’d crawl and that’s what I’d do. While my legs and feet were off the ground, there was no weight on the broken bones. But after another big, fat dose of painkillers I’d also move faster. Probably ruin my elbows.

As a way to delay my fate, it sucked, I thought as I went through my weapons inventory, but I had nothing else to…

I patted my sleeve. Sand skis.

In the race to escape I’d forgotten, thought of inconsequential things when my mind should have been on the job. All I’d thought about was getting to the sand, not how to cross the ocean of desert. Answer: the same way as when you started the hunt.

I sat up, tugged the skis from my pocket and pressed the button. The lights on the ankle cuffs glowed green and the slippery length extruded out of the interior of the ski, clicked in place. Now I had a barrier against the rocks in my path. Better yet, the remaining energy of the counter-grav would give me that extra lift. All I needed was momentum.

The cuff eased over my boots, automatically clamped around my ankle and I had that perfect ‘Oh, shit’ moment just before raw, energy-sapping, mind-blanking, nerve-searing, pain shot up my legs.

My fingers fumbled with the med kit, dropped the first syringe and juggled the second. I clamped my hand around, stabbed the needle into my thigh and pressed the button. Cold relief surged through my veins, leaving the bone deep throb of serious injury.

I picked up the syringe I dropped and jammed that into my other thigh.

Yeah, it would make me groggy, and yeah, I shouldn’t operate large machinery, and yes, of course, I had to be careful of overdosing, but I needed it.

The grass behind me rustled and adrenalin spiked through my system like lightning

.

I pushed up off the ground as hard as I could and wobbled, wavered, swung my arms to maintain my balance as the skis shot forward.

Cool. I was moving!

A cry went up behind me and I turned my head. In the darkness, thousands of green eyes stared at me. Okay, not thousands, but it felt like it.

Who knew the Ullarians had night vision? Certainly not the UWC and they were going to be pissed about that… if I lived to tell them that is.

Momentum is a wonderful thing: you just keep going in the same direction at the same speed until something bumps into you to change the status quo.

With the adrenalin rush when I pushed off, I was smokin’!

I kept an eye on my four-footed pursuers as I left the grasslands and into the desert. The luminescence in the sand created a temporary glowing greeny-blue wake behind me, but I moved faster than the Ullarians.

They kept calling my name, but the breeze rushing by my ears muted the eerie sound.

The giggle came as a complete surprise to me as I skied the dunes. And the giggle turned into maniacal laughter as I realised that I really had a chance. Then again, it could be the drugs.

Oh, the sheer relief!

The proximity alert started up again and I checked the signal. This time, it was ahead of me and not behind. It could only mean the ship. Mine or Peero’s.

I got the feeling I’d forgotten something; something important.

The icon raced towards me faster than expected, the alert’s beep increased in frequency until it was one long bee-eep.

“Eek!”

My arms went up to protect my head and face and I bounced off the fuselage of Peero’s ship with a solid thunk.

“That wasn’t so bad.” And I bobbed gently backwards, giggled. I remembered the ‘something important’: how to stop. I couldn’t turn and dig into the sand because the counter-grav held me just above the ground. I couldn’t turn the unit off to do the turn, because it was the only thing holding my fractured lower spine together.

I leaned down and took the skis off, reduced them and tucked them back into my pocket, patted them for a job well done. Then I used the fuselage to work my way around and to push off towards my own, beloved ship, the Dragon’s Egg.

“Hallelujah!” I almost wept as I shut the hatch and initiated the security protocols. Anyone lays a finger on the ship and… zap!

The ship is small, a shuttle. The mothership, Blue Dragon, hung in the heavens awaiting the return of her child.

She would have to wait a little longer, I had a medical emergency to attend to.

While the parasite shuttle had a reasonable emergency care suite, I needed the full system to repair what was broken.

For now, I could set course for the Blue Dragon and the autopilot would do the rest while I fixed myself.

I stripped off my rank clothes, careful not to disengage the counter-grav around my waist.

It finally gave up as I lay down on the flat bed and pulled the darkened cover me. The pain was enormous as I punched the buttons to initiate the med unit, and eased when the system took over. I sank into a restorative sleep.

* * *

When I awoke, the medical unit pronounced me half done. The nanos needed more time to complete repairs, but it was safe for me to emerge from my cocoon.

I pulled back the cover and slowly sat up, grimaced at the stench of sweat and fear I’d locked in with me. Cleaning up would have to wait until I was back aboard the Blue Dragon. And speaking of which.

I made my way to the pilot’s station, dragged on a robe as I walked and sank into the body-conforming seat. I felt like I’d gone ten rounds of Grav-Ball and anyone who says that’s not a contact sport, has never played.

At first, my eyes didn’t believe what I was seeing. I lifted a hand and rubbed my face. Nope. The view didn’t change.

I should be in the Blue Dragon, surrounded by grey hull, not staring at the stars.

My fingers danced over the console.

“You’re exactly where I want you to be, sweetheart.” A voice I knew oh, so well, said through the speakers.

“Rahman.” I ground out. Why was I not surprised.

“The one and only.” The smug bastard replied in that smooth dark chocolate tone.

“What do you want?” Most of the systems were online, except for one: the navcom. Without navigation, I couldn’t go anywhere, and since I was staring at the starfield, it also meant that Rahman had hacked into the system and brought me here.

“You mean apart from longer prison terms for parole violators and universal peace?”

“Ha. Ha. Apart from that.”

“The bounty, of course. And you, darlin’ are going to hand it over to me or die a long lingering death and I’ll take it anyway.”

© Jaye Patrick 2008