Enjoy!
It was a
nightmare, pure and simple: worse than any combat situation he’d ever found himself involved in.
His very own
version of hell on Earth.
And he wasn’t even
on Earth.
Sweat trickled
down his back inside the shirt and jacket, and his hand twitched toward the
laser pistol strapped to this hip, and twitched away again. Much as he wanted
to, he couldn’t justify blasting his way through this crowd.
It was the biggest
shopping day of the year, and the Sky Mall was filled to bursting. All fourteen
levels, stuffed full of women and children. Squealing children, crying
children, whining children; their shrill screams and maniacal laughter
assaulting his eardrums like tiny sonic grenades, sending chills down his
spine.
And then there
were the women: chattering, laughing, and giggling like hyenas. Their comm
links chirped incessantly, and their gel soles squished when they walked.
Noise everywhere,
people everywhere, and he couldn’t shoot any of’em.
Christ, he never
woulda guessed he’d ever wish himself back into that box where he’d spent all
his time recently, but it had been quiet in solitary confinement. Blessedly
quiet.
Gritting his
teeth, he plunged into the maelstrom of bodies and fought his way toward the
lift tube, doing his best not to step on any children or get tangled in the
strings of the tiny flying reindeer some of them towed.
He’d walked maybe
twenty feet when one of the latter collided with his head. He swatted at it,
and heard it yip in pain.
Christ Almighty,
the thing was alive.
A foot and a half
tall, with antlers and fur, and a red nose that blinked on and off, soaring
through the air at the end of a string.
Alive. A Christmas
novelty. What the hell would happen to it—to all of’em; there must be a hundred
tiny reindeer flying all over the mall—once the holidays were over?
The kid attached
to it took one look at his face and reeled the tiny animal in. “Sorry, mister.”
He melted into the
crowd with a nervous look over his shoulder, as if afraid Isaac might hurt
either him or his creature. But at least he cradled it to his chest. At least
he seemed to realize he was responsible for a living thing.
Isaac uncurled his
fists and forced himself to take a deep breath, just as two Kedarii women
passed by, their long capes flapping behind them. Kohl-rimmed eyes lingered on
his gun for a moment.
The one on his
hip.
For a second, his
blood ran cold. His hand flexed toward the weapon, even though he knew he
couldn’t draw it. He’d be on the floor before it could clear the holster.
The women were
warrior-caste, with the appropriate facial markings. Swirls across their
foreheads and the tops of the high Kedarii cheekbones. They each carried a
legal stunner he could see, and God knew how many other weapons he couldn’t,
tucked away on their bodies. And there were so many bronze bracelets jangling
around their wrists he couldn’t even count them in the time he had before they
were past him.
One for each kill:
between them, they must have dispatched several dozen men.
They didn’t seem
to be after him, though, because they kept walking. He forced himself to do the
same, in the opposite direction, even as his heart pounded. With every step he
expected to hear the crackle of a stunner, and then blackness—but it never
came. When he turned at the lift tube to look over his shoulder, one of the
women was looking back at him, above the heads of the crowd. She had masses of
braids coiled on top of her head, and legs that just wouldn’t quit, and when
the rust red cape swirled aside for a moment, he saw the handle and a couple of
blades of a shongo nestled at her back.
He ducked into the
lift tube before she could pull and throw it. Although she probably wasn’t
going to, because he could see a flash of white teeth as the lift tube sucked
him away.
Good teeth. Nice
lips, too.
He fought his way
off at level 11, into another crowd of women, children, and miniature reindeer.
None of’em hit him this time. In fact, everyone seemed to give him a wide
berth, as if the tension rolling off him in waves created a sort of force
field, keeping everyone at a distance.
The crowds thinned
as he got closer to the doors of Thrusters, the Sky Mall bar, and then he was
through, and back in his own environment again. Not a woman, child, or flying
reindeer in sight.
The place was just
as tightly packed as the mall itself. This was where the husbands and fathers
congregated, waiting for their domestic partners and children to finish holiday
shopping.
Not the kind of
bar he was used to. Too clean. Too many nicely dressed people. It made his neck
prickle. Give him the Down and Dirty on Sumatra
or the Last Chance on Canton Station any day.
He scanned the
dark room, squinting, and found what he was looking for in the back corner.
There were three
of’em: all white as the snow on Krai. A man about Isaac’s age, with dark hair
flopping over his forehead. A man a few years older, small and spare with fair
hair and ruddy cheeks. And a kid, early twenties maybe, with soft, brown hair
and a face that was just a shade away from too pretty.
All three looked
up when he stopped beside the table. “One of you named Conlan?”
There was a pause
while they looked at one another. He’d spoken Standard, assuming they’d
understand it, but maybe they didn’t.
Surprisingly, it
was the pretty-boy who spoke up. “Who wants to know?”
Isaac looked at
him. He couldn’t be the captain of a
space freighter. Not enough years on him for that, surely?
There was no
telling which of them was the captain and which were the crew. They were all
dressed in freighter grays, and neither looked anymore like the boss than the
others. Other than the kid, who had to be too young.
“My name’s Isaac
Miller. I was told I could find Captain Conlan here.”
There was another
exchange of glances, then the kid spoke again. “Who told you that?”
“Dockmaster at the
shipyards. Said the Good Fortune’s
breaking dock later today.”
“We might be,” the
kid said, confirming that at least he’d found the right crew. “Why?”
“I’m looking for
passage home.”
“We run cargo,” the
man with the dark hair said. “And not the human kind.”
Isaac turned to
him. “I ain’t looking to stow away. There’s a price on my head, but not here.
I’m a free man, and I can leave when I choose.”
The man nodded. If
the bounty bothered him, it didn’t show. “Why don’t you just book a berth on
one of the passenger liners? It’s the holiday season. There are shoppers coming
and going every day this time of year.”
Isaac hesitated. No sense in lying to someone you’re asking
help from. “No money.”
There was a pause.
“Where’s home for
you?” the kid broke the silence, and Isaac turned to him.
“Old Earth. North
American continent. But you can drop me anywhere on the planet. I’ll find my
way from there.”
“You got family
waiting for you?”
Isaac shook his
head. “It’s still home, though.” Or the closest thing he had to one.
There was another
pause.
“We ain’t going
that way,” the dark-haired man said, leaning back on his chair. “We’re on our
way in the other direction. el-Kedar. After we stop off on Avaris for a bit.”
“It can be rough
out that way.” Not on the pleasure-planet Avaris, or at least not in any way
that mattered, but el-Kedar was no vacation spot. All those warrior-women.
“Tell me about
it.” A shadow crossed the man’s face.
“I’m pretty good
with a gun,” Isaac offered.
A pair of gray
eyes assessed him. “You offering to come along?”
Might as well.
Didn’t look like he was getting home for the holidays. Then again, with no home
to get home to, did it matter? “Guess I am.”
“We’ll get back to
Old Earth sometime in the next year,” the kid offered. “You can decide whether
you want to stay or go then.”
Isaac nodded.
“Grab a chair.” The
dark-haired man—Captain Conlan?—nodded to the silent one, who pulled a stool
over from the next table. He stuck out a hand. “Welcome to my crew, Mr.
Miller.”
“Glad to be here,”
Isaac said and sat down.
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