Hard Line

I stood a metre or so from the opened hatch. My heart pounded so loud in my ears, I thought the ‘Planters’ would sense the vibration.

The bridge of a bounty hunter’s ship isn’t small and claustrophobic – long trips in isolation require room to move – but spacious enough to pace. I reached the bulkhead near the hatch in three easy strides.

The first pirate, with fronds flared from its body, wriggled through the opening on its root-like appendages and I heard the rattle of… some things as they bounced around the pilot’s chair and off the console.

That they meant to kill me straight off was obvious; but they’d missed. Now, I had an excuse. One I hoped I wouldn’t have to use.

In the event of a catastrophic electrical fire, the best way to suppress that fire is to suck the oxygen out of the compartment. Of course, that assumed the hunter was dead and wouldn’t need oxygen.

Designed to limit the damage and for the hunter recovery team to salvage a damaged vessel and reassign it once repaired, it was a ‘final solution’ for me. Unlike the engine room with its large maintenance panels, the bridge had a series of tubes connected to air-filtration scrubbers. The system vented noxious fumes into space and recovered oxygen and nitrogen into storage tanks.

The Blue Dragon builders, wary of obviousness, routed the venting system through the bridge and engine room and one fail-safe – should your ship be captured by a bounty – within the armoury; and that was one deck below me.

As the three aliens shuffled into the room and I held absolutely still.

With no eyes, ears or visible mouth, I assumed these fern covered creatures relied on touch and/or vibrations. In the red gloom of the emergency lights, I saw the three touch fronds, then slowly approach the pilot’s chair.

I took my chance and dashed out of the bridge, thumped my fist on the access panel, and locked them in with my security code. If they had similar emotions to humans, one would start work on opening the hatch again while the other two messed with the command console.

That gave me maybe thirty seconds to sprint down the short corridor, down the grav-lift and back up the corridor to the armoury closet. All in darkness, but I knew my ship.

In my haste, I fumbled with the seven-digit access code on the armoury lock. My second attempt transposed two numbers and the count down to permanently sealing the doors glowed red above the panel.

I dragged in a deep breath to calm my nerves and punched in the correct sequence.

“Huh, only five seconds to go.” I muttered as the doors slid into the wall cavity.

The heavy counter-insurgent rifle came off the rack and I laid it on the deck, punched another five-digit code into the smaller panel and the hatch popped open. A console swung out of the cavity.

My fingers flew across the half-size keyboard, the screen lit with a view of the bridge. I was right: one creature busily tried to open the hatch, while the other two touched fronds as they leaned over the console. Did they think I’d booby-trapped it? Shame I didn’t think of that.

I didn’t want an explosive decompression on the bridge. It worked in the engine room because nothing was loose to fly about damaging vital equipment. The bridge was different. Too slow and they’d realise what I was doing and take remedial action.

I settled for venting in two minutes. Long enough they’d know, but quick enough they couldn’t do anything about it unless they opened the hatch. To make things more difficult for them, I also cut power to the gravity interface and dropped the temperature to zero Fahrenheit.

As I waited for the bridge to vent, I turned the lights to fifty percent and re-routed the airspace from the holding cells into the engine room. I did not look at the plant creatures, not yet. I didn’t know if it would work. Plants needed light to photosynthesise and air to… do whatever air did for them. Without those two elements, I’d condemned the creatures to a slow death by starvation.

I didn’t feel very good about myself for doing it; when issued with an execution warrant I did it quickly. This was torture in my book.

But would they surrender?

I shut down the console, returned everything to its rightful place. Gas didn’t work on them, projectile weaponry I reserved for the outdoors since I didn’t want holes in the hull, but the stunners might work. How did electricity affect plants? I grabbed a double holster and two stun-guns. I might have the opportunity to find out.

Outside the engine room hatch, I waited for the light to glow green. With the invaders trapped on the bridge, I didn’t need to hurry although my imagination created all manner of gruesome scenarios as to what was happening up there: exploding plants (unlikely), green gunk everywhere, wilted trunks with fronds reaching out for help, trunks with flared fronds floating, bumping into bulkheads, lifeless.

The hatch hissed open and I shut down those images. I had business with a homicidal plant.

In case something… nasty happened to the bridge, the engine room had a back-up system. Everything slaved to one console. I stood in front of it and fired up the coms.

A plant sat at the Customs desk. No surprise there but was it the same one I’d dealt with on arrival? Actually, they all looked the same to me.

“Greetings.” I said.

Fronds trembled. “Bipedal organisms are not allowed in this sector.”

“So I gathered when your thugs board my ship. Three are dead now and the others are in peril. Do you wish to barter for their lives?”

The fronds stilled, then began an agitated rippling. “You lie.”

I split the screen so it could see the three on the bridge, fronds undulating, trunks floating.

“I want them off my ship.” I said. “They can leave alive or… as mulch.”

“My people are not to be toyed with!”

“Then I suggest you call them. I’ll give them gravity, but if they even look like they’re going for the bridge controls, all negotiations will cease and I get rid of them my own way.”

The fronds on its ‘face’ flared and then settled back into place. “Agreed.”

The voice synthesizer didn’t give me any audio clues as to its truthfulness, but that was okay. If they stepped out of line, I’d find out what electricity did to foliage.

I nodded curtly and cut the connection.

I gave them gravity before heading back up to the bridge. Yes, I gave them time to make a plan, but I knew my ship. On the way, I picked up a curved riot screen and turned it on, in case my uninvited guests got feisty. At the bridge hatch, I punched in my access code and backed up.

Three frond covered tree trunks hesitantly came out. They stuck close each other as they walked towards me. I watched with the stunner raised as they went into the lift and down.

I followed head first - not recommended - but it gave me an advantage of firepower first. The screen protected me as I flipped over just above deck level and landed in a crouch behind the molybonded plas-glass.

Small nuts snapped, buzzed and roasted on the screen. I fired at the plant on the right. Blue electricity sparked through its fronds, blackening the greenery. It stiffened and fell over with a thunk.

The stench of smouldering leaves and a light blue-grey smoke cloud blew into the lift.

Guess I found what could hurt them.

“Out! Get the fuck off my ship before I turn you into kindling!”

The other two rolled the third towards the external access hatch. I watched from behind my screen.

As soon as the hatch closed behind them, I locked it with a different security sequence. Now I had another problem.

I ran back to the bridge, leaned the deactivated screen against the bulkhead, settled in my seat and watched the shuttle undock. As soon as it was clear, I activated the shield generators. They seemed like the kind of creatures who would destroy what they couldn’t capture.

While I needed to get out of here as fast as possible, I also needed to set an alert buoy for anyone else who ventured into this system. One ship alone couldn’t retake the planet.

As expected, the sods fired at me. Whatever they used melted against the shield like butter. Bigger nuts, maybe?

A ship this big easily outran the shuttle. It was dangerous to other craft for me to increase speed so quickly, but if the shuttle vaporized from expelled gases, tough. They started it.

I kept accelerating, dropped the buoy and made the jump into hyper without damage.

Feeling safe, I slumped in my seat, exhausted. I needed some sleep, some downtime, but I had all those little nuggety-nuts to clean up, though how I could find them all was going to be a major pain.

Since they were ostensibly weapons, I needed gloves, but as I looked around the console and deck for the little brown things, not one could I see.

Odd, strange, and very peculiar.

“Okay, where the hell are you all?”

“Here.” A distinctly masculine voice said just before all the systems shut down.

© Copyright Jaye Patrick 2008

Hard Ground

Agreebo: an alien planet not too close to the frontier that pirates and raiders would bother me and far enough from Sagan Security on Columbus to ease the tension making my shoulders and neck ache.

I still burned with resentment and anger. Oh, and toss in frustration at how my life could go from triumph to down the crapper in such a short time.

I thought about it, constantly, on the three week trip out to this… place. From the moment I took the bounty on Peero – mass murderer and world killer – to Rahman Chezerain – former lover and sworn enemy - stealing that bounty, on to accessing my inheritance, to my dear, darling Uncle Randall manipulating me into joining Sagan Security and finally the bounty on my own head for the recruitment officer’s murder.

On whom did I lay the blame? Me or those who forced my decisions? Some was on me; most was on squarely on the shoulders of others.

The question, of course, was what I did about it. Answer: what could I do?

I made a mental list: evade Rahman, get back my bounty, find out why Randall had done this to me and clear my name of murder, not necessarily in that order.

Agreebo customs hailed me and I frowned. I was too far out from the planet for them to worry about me yet. I wasn’t expecting a call for another twelve hours.

“Unidentified ship, please heave-to and prepare for inspection. I repeat: unidentified ship, heave-to and prepare for inspection.” A bored voice said over the com.

Where…?

Ah… there. I checked my sensors and sure enough, off the port side, floated a small craft. It hadn’t registered at first because I had my sensors configured to larger objects like asteroids, meteors and big ships. The sensors also indicated the minnow was armed and those weapons were hot. Now that was a problem.

When entering a star system, most Customs Officers merely directed you to a docking bay on a space station, or a geo-stationary orbit around the planet. Other systems assumed everyone carried contraband and wanted to keep those ships as far from planet fall as possible until checked out. Of course, there were the few, like the planets on the frontier who covertly supported pirates and illegal goods trafficking. Was there a better way for a marginal system to acquire ships and money from cargo than confiscating them?

Any star system was, after all, sovereign territory and they could do what they damned-well liked.

I brought up the visual of the Customs Officer. Yep, alien. A sickly, green alien with what looked like fern fronds stuck to his round face; no eyes, or a nose or mouth. As I watched, those fronds rippled and two rose, trembled.

“You are the Captain?”

“I am. Bounty Hunter Rhianna Sagan.”

“What cargo do you carry?”

“None, sir.” I replied politely.

“No cargo? Then why are you here? Only transports are permitted.”

This was new. Agreebo relied on being a transport hub, yes, but it also served as a resupply station for ships and luxury cruisers. When had that changed?

“I’m sorry, sir, I thought to resupply here and continue on.”

I kept my eyes on the plant-like face. I thought I knew all the alien species, but not this one. The idea that something catastrophic had occurred out here grew.

“No longer. We are cargo depot only. Heave-to for inspection.” The trembling of fronds became more agitated. “We do not allow unknown vessels in our system. Heave-to for inspection!”

A red light flashed to my left. The small craft activated the close-quarter sensors. They were coming in whether I wanted them to or not and I had no reason – yet – to blow them into small pieces.

I did not know these people and I did not want them aboard my ship. I didn’t know what had gone wrong in Agreebo, and I sure as Hell didn’t want to die ‘accidentally’ during a hostile boarding. I could easily imagine other ships complying without hesitation, to their peril. Customs inspections were expected and every ship’s master knew the drill.

The red light went out and the hatch connector light turned green. The armed shuttlecraft had sealed to my ship.

“There is no need for this hostile action, sir.”

The fronds did nothing.

Could I escape with a craft attached to the side? No, I could not because the shape upset the streamlined configuration required to get into hyper. My shield didn’t extend that far to reconfigure the curve needed. Worse, achieving hyper-velocity required a nice long run up before jumping, just like coming out of hyper required a nice long deceleration in the outer system so you didn’t slam into any immovable objects… like a planet.

So. I had to get that damned parasite off and… oh, crap. They’d breached the hatch. How could they do that so fast without the access codes or something to cut through the steel and ceramic nano-bonded polymer? The how mattered less than the fact they were now aboard my ship.

I glared at the Officer. “Piracy is a galaxy-wide offence.”

“Not to us. Your ship is now ours and your life is forfeit.” His fronds undulated as if laughing as he turned the vision off.

Okay, fine. Time to repel boarders. I locked down the bridge hatch and access to the engines; control either, and you controlled the ship.

“Mess with a Hunter, would you?” I growled. You couldn’t have a bounty escaping from custody and trying to take over the ship, so Blue Dragon came with a few… modifications, like crowd suppressant gas.

The internal visuals showed me two groups of three intruders, one group at the bridge hatch and the other moving towards the engine hatch. They stood two metres tall, with the same frond facial features covering their unprotected bodies.

“Lords of Space, are they… roots?” I zeroed in and yeah, the aliens used root systems as if they were feet and they moved fast.

Great, I’d been boarded by a garden.

I accessed the gas and pressed the button, waited for them to fall kicking and screaming and grabbing their sensory organs. But they didn’t; they moved as if the gas were nothing but a breeze, their fronds flickering and waving.

What else did I have in my arsenal that could defeat foliage? All my counter measures assumed the villain had a complex, organic, blood-fed nervous system. The crowd suppressant gas was based on chilli juice. They should be writhing on the deck. Unfortunately, they had no eyes to attack with the acidic cocktail. Maybe they fed on organic material?

I also didn’t have any handy-dandy weed-killer because I didn’t have a hydroponics section.

Evolution could sure be a bitch sometimes. What I wouldn’t give for some of Peero’s toxins.

I pursed my lips and shut down the lights. Plants needed light, didn’t they? And oxygen… but then, so did I. I could vent the engine room, but recharging the air came from the rest of the ship. Then again, I didn’t need to recharge it, since I knew little about how the engine worked. If it got me to where I wanted to go, good; and to make sure, I maintained a regular service schedule.

The group at the far end of the ship breached the engine room hatch with ridiculous ease. I waited until they’d closed and locked the door, then opened the external maintenance access panels. Three weeds found themselves sucked out into space. I buttoned up the panels, nice and tight. One bunch of greenery mulched.

Lack of water, salt? My mind raced with ideas quickly discarded as being unworkable. One weed outside the hatch had a frond over the controls while the other two stood back. They’d be in here soon, if I didn’t come up with a strategy.

Damn it! Think! What else killed off plants?

I got out of my chair, paced. None of the group had gone for the armoury, which meant they had their own form of weapon. Poison darts? Sap? Deadly fruit? Did they spit poison pips? What?

Well, it didn’t really matter now, because the red light above the hatch turned green and then slid open…

© Copyright 2008 Jaye Patrick

Hard yards

Strip? This… man wanted me to… strip?

“Why?” I asked and he scowled. It turned his blunt features from disagreeable to plain ugly.

“You don’t ask me questions! I ask you questions and you obey without hesitation! Do you get me, recruit?”

I tried a smile. “There’s some misunder…”

“You either get your clothes off now, or I’ll take ‘em off.” He growled and stepped closer. He was the size of the counter guard and I took a step back.

“Look, Mr…”

He gave me an evil grin and pulled out a long, black stick, turned it on and the weapon buzzed. “You have ten seconds to comply.”

While I could have disarmed him, further escape would be… difficult. I had a locked behind me and the door behind him led further into Security. Better to comply and see what happened next, than be zapped unconscious and lose an intelligence gathering opportunity.

That Randall betrayed me into this situation was a given; I’d trusted him, trusted the chip he gave me and trusted the form I signed without reading it properly, well… that was on me.

“Four, three…” The man counted down with an evil, predatory grin.

I doubt any man in history could have me out of my clothes in seconds, but for this goon I was standing naked before he finished ‘zero’.

With a grunt of disappointment, he lifted the stick. I stood straight as he approached, tried to intimidate me, but I’d kick him into next week if he tried anything. I made sure he saw that in my eyes.

He sucked at his teeth and raised the stick over my head, as if to strike me down, his eyes on mine. I held his gaze and he lowered the baton, horizontally, down my body to my toes, then up again.

He stepped back and I held onto a sigh of relief. The baton beeped and again, he grunted. “Get dressed. You’re clean.”

I remained where I was and he glared at me.

“Unless you wanna try and make good on your dare?”

I waited until he moved back to the other side of the room, the grey metal desk between us, and then climbed into my clothes.

“I’m Sergeant Bakhtir, Ms Sagar…” He said and opened a drawer on the left-hand side to the desk. He pulled out a black square box and fitted the end of the stick into the top.

A data wand? Masquerading as baton? Wait a minute, did he say ‘Sagar’ not ‘Sagan’?

“As of now, you are a private in the Sagan Security Force.” He didn’t look at me, merely studied the data on the reader. “You’ve signed up for six years, which is good. You’ll go from here to the Sagan Training Facility on Amerigo for a year of intensive training in unarmed combat, armed combat, intelligence, protocol, astrography, tactics and other subjects essential to your safety, the safety of your comrades and the safety of Sagan Industries.” He paused in his recitation.

“My name is Sagan, with an ‘n’, Rhianna Sagan.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “According to these records, including DNA, you are Raina Sagar, so don’t try and bullshit me. Though I will note down the alias.”

That evil little prick! Only Uncle Randall would have the technology at hand to falsify my identity.

“It says here you used to be a bounty hunter.” He glanced up at me then back at the datapad.

“I still am!”

Bakhtir snorted. “And yet, here you are.”

Not for long, I thought.

“I can give you credits for some of your skills, but they’ll need to be assessed, and not by me. Once your training is complete, you’ll be assigned a regiment and…”

“A… regiment? Just how big is Sagan Security?”

“Big enough to take on a system defence and stomp on it. We have ground forces, of which you’ve generously applied for, air and space contingents for rebel suppression... we are the largest, most well provisioned outfit there is in the known galaxy.” I could see the pride in his expression.

“So… Sagan Security is basically a private fleet?”

“Yep. Who do you think protects this system? The government? They don’t have the resources. They outsourced protection years ago, but you’ll get a thorough grounding in the history on Amerigo. Suffice to say we represent Columbus’s military and you’re now part of the Sagan contingent.”

Incredible, I thought and I knew only the government and Sagan knew about this. A dirty secret that contravened the World Council’s edicts on who provided security for what worlds.

“But…”

Bakhtir raised an eyebrow, turned so I could see the shoulder flash on his left shoulder: A yellow triangle with a red ‘C’ in the centre. “There a few governments who can do what we can. Just remember that.” He warned. “If the populace knew how tenuous, how thin, their protection truly was… how easy raiders could come down on them without Sagan, there’d be a major panic. That’s why Sagan has the contract from the government.”

I shifted my feet. He was right. Financing a private fleet was hugely expensive and for other worlds, it came out of taxes and high prices. But the reason Columbus flourished was because of reasonable taxes. Sagan provided manpower and materiels, but how did… and then I knew: profit sharing. Was it as simple as that?

Sagan protected the planet and the government paid up in money from local taxes, import taxes and reduced export fees?

“I see you’re beginning to see how it’s done.” Bakhtir commented with approval.

“Sagan wins all around.” I murmured. “Cheaper exports so more people can buy goods thus increasing the bottom line. Tax credits for everything Sagan Security needs, and the government also pays Sagan for services rendered.”

“Very good.”

Yes, it really was that simple. Sagan would make profits hand over fist from everyone.

“It also means we’re well paid for what we do.” He flicked a button on the data pad. “Right then, if you’ll follow me, we’ll head straight for the shuttle.”

The shuttle to Amerigo, Columbus’s moon.

I needed time to think. I didn’t want to be a part of Sagan Security. I wanted back on the Blue Dragon, hunting down evil-doers and getting paid for it. I didn’t want to spend six years in a private army. I didn’t want to be cannon fodder to whatever cause the government or Sagan decided on. I wanted the freedom of space. I wanted to hunt down Rahman and get my money back. I wanted to go upstairs and beat the snot out of Randall.

But Bakhtir waited, stared at me expectantly. Once I walked through the door, my life was over. I’d have no control at all. Six years.

And yet if I tried to escape, Sagan Security would hunt me down, drag me back or worse. And given the size of the organisation, was there anywhere I could hide and still continue as a bounty hunter?

Not unless I wanted to try the uncharted territories and I’d only find my doom sooner.

Bakhtir raised an eyebrow.

What choice did I have? Randall, once again, had taken control from me. I knew he’d be upstairs, grinning over his disposal of the one heir who could dethrone him, ruin him.

He didn’t trust me either, no matter how many times I protested I didn’t want anything to do with the company. The simple act of accessing my inheritance provoked him to action. Was he that insecure?

All I had to do was survive the next six years, return, and kill that fucker dead. Chances were, I die before my contract was up. Randall would make sure of it.

I slowly crouched and sealed my boots. The desk was between me and Bahktir and he stepped to the side, away from the door to see what I was doing. I pivoted away from him.

“What are you doing? We haven’t got all day, the shuttle leaves in an hour and you’re gonna be on it.”

“Making sure my boots are on properly.” I murmured.

“Speak up!”

“I said…” I turned back, rose from my crouch and slammed the heel of my hand into his crotch. Bahktir folded over and I followed through with a fist to his chin. He fell back, hit the wall and slid down, his eyes glazed.

I went to him, hit him again and he sagged sideways.

Breathing hard, I took the data wand and the pad, picked up my backpack. As I thought, the wand opened the door.

Now for the hard part: getting through the rest of Sagan Security.

It proved easier than expected. As long as I kept my head down and studied the data pad, no one asked any questions. With a distracted glance, I pressed the elevator button.

The expectation of a shout of alarm behind me tightened my shoulders, but I heard only the murmurs of staff going about their business.

The doors slid open and I stepped inside, still keeping my head down. I pressed the ground floor and only looked up as the doors closed.

I had to get to the spaceport fast, and once outside, I hailed a transport.

“One hundred credits to get me to ‘port as fast as you can.” I said to the driver, then groaned as I saw it was a ‘bot.

“Gratuity unnecessary.” It said and slowly pulled into traffic.

Why couldn’t I get an organic with a sense of adventure? Who saw the trip as a challenge?

I kept looking back, expecting pursuit until I realised, they didn’t need to pursue me; they could shut down the docking bay with a word to the Dock Master.

I wiped my palms on my legs and tried to think what to do. I was a Hunter, surely I could think of something?

But nothing occurred to me as the transport stopped outside the docks. I inserted the credit chip into the fare machine and the green light accepted the charge.

Outside the vehicle, I studied the area. Men and women in grey coveralls moved about the apron, shuttles zipped into the atmosphere or gushed exhaust as they landed.

“You comin’ in or daydreamin’?” The thin Sagan Security guard with wheat coloured hair at the shack asked.

Shit on a stick.

Well, he was one man. I could take him if necessary.

I walked up to him, handed over my ident card and he checked it off with a frown. I swallowed hard, but then he handed it back. “All clear on docking fees, refuelling and resupply. Have a good trip, Hunter.”

I held my breath as I strolled past him, then broke into a run towards my own shuttle.

Was Sagan letting me escape? No, Randall wouldn’t accept that. Something else was going on here. But I checked over the shuttle, then went inside to the pilot controls.

I mentally crossed my fingers and fired the engines. I hooked the mic around my ear.

“Columbus control, this is the Dragon's Egg shuttle.”

“Dragon's Egg, Columbus control, go ahead.” A man replied with briskness.

“I am preparing to launch, do you have a window for me, over?”

“Affirmative, Dragon's Egg, launch in one-two minutes.”

Twelve minutes. Twelve minutes in which the whole of Sagan Security could descend upon my head. I forced myself to wait, to go through all the pre-flight checks, and still I had another six minutes.

My neck muscles tightened as I watched the clock, my shoulders tensed and I kept an eye on the perimeter sensors, expecting a battalion of black uniforms at any moment. Sweat trickled down the side of my face and my heart pounded. Every time I looked at the countdown, seconds passed.

As a form of torture, waiting for the hammer to fall was the worst.

And then… the clock dialled down. I gripped the half steering wheel and pressed the button on top of the left edge.

I felt the gravity as the shuttle rose, but I was in the air, shooting skywards towards the Blue Dragon, my home – and no one tried to stop me!

* * *

The feeling of safety is relative. In space, for example, any number of things can kill you: a micro-meteorite through an unshielded hull, a bad fuel cell, not enough water, or spoiled food.

For my current situation, safety meant getting as far away from Columbus as possible. So I punched in a course for Agreebo, an alien planet on the far side of the galaxy and one step before the uncharted territories. On the way, I could examine my options, of which there were precious few.

The journey to the hyper-limit took time, two days, in fact, and I stayed up the first twenty-four hours manically checking for pursuit. But for a large cargo vessel, no one was heading my way.

As a measure to relax, I brought up the Bounty Board on the info-link. Maybe someone needed catching out on the border.

I ran through the system names - there were a few possibilities – and then brought up names. The good news? Rahman was listed with a blue icon for information only.

The bad news? Raina Sagar’s name had a red icon for kill on sight for the murder of a Sagan Security Recruitment Officer and no self-respecting bounty hunter would look at that name and not think of me.

© Copyright 2008 Jaye Patrick

Hard Break

Remembered fear held me in place as Uncle Randall walked around me. He’d combed his black hair back from his broad forehead, his dark blue eyes sparkled and not a line nor wrinkle or ounce of fat showed for fifty-six years of perverted indulgence.

He breathed in. “You smell so good, Rhianna, not the little girl anymore, but a fully developed playmate.”

“Not yours.” I said. “Never yours again.”

Randall laughed and walked across the dusky grey carpet to his desk. “Come, sit down, Rhianna, we have much to discuss.”

I felt the tension ease from my shoulders and neck. Once upon a time, he’d’ve been on me like a Rith catling on a Belbow rat. Now, he merely smiled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Rhianna, I’m aware neither you nor I have time for reminiscences. Please. Sit.”

I didn’t trust him. “Why did you over-ride the elevator?”

“Would you have come to me of your own accord? No, I didn’t think so.”

“What do you want?”

That broadened his smile. “A great many things, but for now, for you to sit so we can go over a few business issues.”

“I have no business with you or this company.” I turned away to the elevator doors.”

“Ah, but you do. Once you accessed your inheritance, certain… things changed within the company. Not the least, your role in it.”

I walked over to the desk, seething with resentment and anger. “I have nothing to do with the company. Never have, never will.”

His amusement vanished like a snowflake in boiling water. “You don’t know how much I wish that were true.”

Bitterness swirled in his tone.

“What did he do?” I asked. Randall knew whom I meant. A sick and twisted soul lived in Ryan, my evil father, and he would do his damnedest – even from the grave – to mess with people.

Randall sighed, as if suddenly exhausted. He leaned back in his chair, waved to a visitor’s seat and I finally sat down.

“On securing your inheritance, Ryan also set up caveats. And yes, I agreed with him at the time. Now…” he snorted. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to have a role in this company or everything, and I mean everything, is to be sold off and the money given to a list of organisations that would benefit most from his… largesse. People like the New Luddites, the Organisation for Indigenous Minorities Armed Action, Gene Action…”

Anti-technology, terrorists and genetic slavery. Typical of him to want to finance the worst of humanity and alien races.

“And I care about this… why?”

“Because it includes your inheritance and any item you’ve purchased with Sagan money – corporate or personal.”

I felt the blood leave my face and a chill flashed across my skin.

My ship. I’d financed it through my own hard work and a loan from a Sagan subsidiary.

“The bastard.” I whispered. “He can’t do this!”

“Well, he did. With malice and forethought. We have to find a way around it. I refuse to lose this company to the whim of a madman. And I can see you refuse to lose everything you’ve worked for as well.”

“That mongrel dog of a…” I got to my feet, paced with outrage. “… evil prick of a scum sucking, base born, bottom feeder!” I could walk out and try another way to finance my Hunter career, but that would mean apprenticing again; starting from zero, and I didn’t play well with others. I’d spent years on my own, I couldn’t take orders from others, I’d mutiny.

“If he wasn’t dead already, I’d kill him myself.” Randall said quietly. “We both stand to lose everything unless we can come up with a solution.”

A solution? Daddy-dearest had mouse-trapped me from the great beyond! I knew what I’d done to warrant this treatment: I’d walked out on the family home as soon as I overheard plans for him to pimp me out to his cronies. I think I was fifteen, and I never saw him again – not in person. A solution would be to wake the dead and kick the shit out of him. Ryan Sagan never let anyone or any thing escape him for long.

But… was there a real solution? Best to find out how deep the shit went.

“Did he say in what capacity he wanted me to work?”

“That’s the good news. The caveat says is that you’re to work, and be paid by, the company. The bad news is that you have to choose from a list of departments.”

I stopped pacing. “I don’t want to work for Sagan in any role. I have my own life.”

“Here’s the list.” Randall pushed a sheet of paper toward me.

I stared down at the neatly printed words: Astrophysics, Construction, Contracts – Agricultural, Contracts – Corporate, Contracts – Legal, Defence Materiel, Diplomatic, Finance, Genetic Research, Personnel, Political Negotiations.

Nothing of interest to me; at all. Any of them would bore me to tears.

“I hate him. I hate him so… much.”

“With a deep and abiding passion.” Randall said and I lifted my head. “I do, too.”

“And yet you allowed this.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It was either that, or he’d cut me out totally. Worse, I was young when this was done; young, foolish, and full of malice.”

“There’s no way we can ignore my accessing the inheritance? Forget I was here?”

Randall shook his head. “Unfortunately, Sarah Carpenter is one of the most efficient people we have. As soon as you signed on the dotted line, she submitted everything electronically. It’s in the system.”

“The bitch.” I muttered.

“And if you try to get off Columbus without an official Sagan ident chip, you’ll be refused and your assets confiscated.”

“So I’m stuck here.”

“For now.”

“And that is way too long. I have places to go; people to hunt.” I sank into maudlin thoughts. Chained to an overpopulated world, with people chattering away until I went insane. Bounties laughing at me. The Hunters oozing mock sympathy as they registered for another Hunt. This was going to kill me.

Randall cleared his throat and I looked at him.

“You’ll have to choose before you leave my office, I’m afraid.”

“Or I set the sale in motion.” I said and he nodded.

I picked up the list again, mentally crossed off anything to do with money - I was useless at figures – and anything resembling talking politely to people. Astrophysics was out too: numbers, again. Construction, Contracts, Defence Materiel and Genetic Research remained. Contracts was out – too much reading of fine print, so was genetics. I knew nothing about it and didn’t want to know. So. Construction or Defence?

“Defence.” I muttered and slid the sheet back.

Randall allowed a small smile and turned to his keyboard. “Good choice. We have a number of jobs available.”

“Like what? Counting weapons?”

“No. Like… test pilot?” He glanced at me.

“I like to be sure of my ships, Randall.”

“Okay…” he murmured and studied the screen. “Personnel is out. No, not advanced weaponry, nor supplies…” He continued to talk to himself.

I stood and went to the window, stared down at the city. Buildings stretched to the horizon and beyond. Down below, I could imagine the teeming masses of people, both human and alien alike, all getting in each other’s way, talking, yelling, moving… I needed to go. Needed to get back into space where silence ruled.

“Hmm.” Randall murmured. “MIS.” And then he laughed with delight.

“What?” I turned back to him and he swivelled towards me.

“MIS.” He said with a smile. “Military Investigation Service.”

“A spook. You want me to be a spook?”

“It solves your problem and mine.”

“How?”

“Because, dear niece of mine, MIS investigate anyone who acts against Sagan. It means MIS can send you out on any mission where Sagan is involved.”

It had good points, but I’d still be a Sagan slave, beholden to the company, no longer a bounty hunter, and I had one last target to…

Then it hit me. I could track Rahman. “I can hunt down anyone who acts against Sagan? Corporate or personal?”

Randall inclined his head. “Your priority would be corporate, but any personal issues could be dealt with as well.”

I narrowed my gaze, suspicious. “Why are you doing this? Why free me from debt, give me access to Sagan accounts? Why give me a choice at all? You could stick me in Finance and be done with me.”

Randall turned back to his screen. “In everyone’s life, there should be good to go with the bad.”

Not even close to the truth, but I’d accept the answer. For now. Randall was up to something. Redemption wasn’t in his vocabulary.

I stepped away from the window, sat back down. “All right, what do I do now?”

He pressed a button and chip slid out of the bottom of the screen. He tossed it to me.

“Take that to the twentieth floor. They’ll understand and know what to do next.”

Again, suspicion snuck up on me. “Oh, they will, will they? I’m guessing you had this planned before you saw me enter the building.”

“You’d be guessing right, Rhianna. I’ve been waiting for this day for some time.”

I heard an alarm go off in my head. “Why?”

“Because if you hadn’t accessed your inheritance by the time you turned twenty five, the sale would go ahead.” He looked like a man who’d dodged a bullet; his demeanour turned back to the congenial benefactor and still I didn’t trust him. “Send me a copy of the will.”

“It will be waiting for you when you reach MIS.” He stood then, and held out his hand. “Thank you, Rhianna and good luck.” He said softly.

Whatever else he was, Randall was still family and I shook his hand.

* * *

The twentieth floor looked like a recruitment station. Men and women walked around as if they had places to go and people to kick. Their black uniforms crisp and perfect. I could see the stylised shoulder flashes: a black double ‘s’ with sharp corners instead of smooth curves of the ‘s’, all highlighted by sliver edges.

I walked up to the counter. The big Sagan Security man with chevrons on his sleeve glanced up from his paperwork with an absent smile.

“May I help you?” He asked in a pleasant and deep voice as he stood. He oozed confidence and charm from the top of his short black hair down to his highly polished black combat boots.

I handed him the chip and he inserted it into a reader. His smile grew, became infectious and I grinned back.

“Ah, Ms Sagan. Welcome to Security.”

“I thought this was Defence Materiels.”

“Oh, it is. We’re the… front, I guess you’d say. Sign here,” he put a sheet of paper in front of me, “and press your thumb here for DNA registration.” He held out a small black box. I did the DNA first and tried to read the sheet. A lot of legalese, most of which I didn’t understand.

“Since Defence is a secured area, we like to put a show of force up front to stop anyone who might not serve in the best interests of Sagan. Of course, Security is a part of Defence and we go everywhere in the known galaxy to protect Sagan – finished? No? Well, Sagan has a lot of companies off world, you know, and on the frontier. We can’t have enemies of the system trying to gazump our work.”

Gazump? Was that even a word? He continued to talk and wave his hand. Finally I just signed the damned document and shoved it back to him.

His ebullience vanished.

He picked up the paper and slid it into a slot. A green light flashed and he grinned.

“Six years. Good for you.”

Hands clamped around my upper arms. “Hey!” They dragged me backwards and looked over my shoulder. A door opened and the goons dragged me through into another room. This had a grey metal desk and door on the other side.

The men let me go and backed out, closed the door. When I went to open it, it was locked. What the hell?

Behind me, the second door opened and another black uniformed security guy came in. He looked… mean.

“Welcome to Sagan Security Forces, puke, now strip!”

© Copyright Jaye Patrick 2008