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