Planet: DR Neier
I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Twenty, living on some backwater desert planet in a tourist trap. You'd think I'd know, right? I've worked the bar, the gambling machines, even done some bouncing. I really prefer hogging objectives, though. I'm good at it, figuring out someone's intentions. The real bouncers love me because of this. They don't have to guess. I tell em who to toss. Hogging losers isn't always a physical job. Get em to drink a bit of Netto, and they'll go anywhere with you. Then it's on with the muzzle and slip-ties. You can drive real peaceful all the way to the POI. I guess I could be a pro hogger, just taking on scammers and lighters. Nah. Another mark, another dose of Netto, day after day? So same-o!
Mum and Da were colonists to this planet. I listened to endless fairy tales of desert dragons with scales glittering like diamonds and giant worms big enough to swallow a mega train roaring out of the sand while Mum and Da chipped a living out of the planets crust. I spent so many hours drawing crude pictures of those beasts while promising myself I would go out and tame them to my hand for pets someday. Yeah, someday. I guess even if dragons aren’t real I could spend my days hunting peridot crystals while gazing at blazing sunsets melting across the seas of sand. Am I worthy of that excitement? Meh. I guess I've done some not so nice stuff, but who gets to decide how far I go, anyway? I wonder…would adventuring pay better than swindling widows out of their insurance money?
-
Vel took a drag off the remaining stub of a biri and flicked it into the sand. He watched it burn for a moment before a thick tongue lashed out of the pebbles and gulped down the dubious snack item.
"Greedy little dreck,” he muttered.
The desert was a particularly lonely place today. A sandstorm blew against the far rocky hills, making them into obscure monuments reaching out for the bluey-green atmosphere of the sky. A sleek red commuter train broke through the dust storm, pulling up noiselessly on the mag tracks. Only the "clunk" of the parking wheels announced its intent to stay for a while. The whole train effortlessly transferred itself to a railed parking spot off the main track. Vel washed his fingers together in anticipation of a payday. There had to be someone worth money on this train.
The Strip was not quite a visitor destination unless you were into liquor, gambling, sex or slaves. In no way did it resemble a “respectable” neighborhood. Vel hung back to watch the marks exit the vehicle, leaving the first flush of tourists to the ham-handed efforts of the junkies. Their advertisement patter rang out through the slightly acrid desert air. Vel watched it all with a bored expression. The steady trickle of people were meanly dressed. Drizzle farmers and low-level city workers eager for a drink and an evening of distraction. Vel was not on the lookout for the desperate. He wanted the more powerful players.
Then it stepped out. The junkies patter stumbled and slowed to a stuttering halt. The marks wandered past the junkies, lost to their blandishments. The focal point of the junkies' abrupt concern was a Macrodiae. As it turned its head back and forth to survey the environment, Vel got a good look at it. No, not it, her. She was a giant, with two stout back legs, long forearms, and a firm, triangular head topped with what Vel had to admit were gracefully sculpted ears. The desert breeze did not ruffle a single bit of fur which was only slightly darker than the sand of the desert itself. Vel allowed himself to sigh in appreciation of the sheer physical elegance the Macrodiae displayed.
The junkies edged away, trying to be unseen in the crowd. Macrodiae were sticklers for clean living and rather heavy morality mongers. Vel slid forward. Here was his mark. The junkies wouldn't bother fighting him for her. She was too scary. A deceptively mild gaze took in everything. Who was she looking for? She had to be looking for someone with that kind of attitude. She surveyed the area, those ears slipping about, searching for familiar sounds. Well, another bounty, another day. Vel took the last few strides confidently toward her. He spoke softly, with great control which was only respectful.
"Yolah Ma capa." (please excuse my terrible manners)
After a measured breath, Vel continued, “M’rela Ma qi Almaranna?” (May I be off assistance?)
The Macrodiae appeared amused. She leaned forward, almost conspiratorially.
"qua...Almaranna. OF assistance, young man. Not off."
Vel’s skin darkened slightly in shame at his error.
"I do beg your pardon. I am unpracticed."
She flipped a paw at him. Vel carefully watched the ears, which said "amused" and not "offended."
Thank goodness for his early instincts. His parents could not afford to educate him in a proper school but even at seven years old, he knew how to steal everything he needed, even schooling. He'd discovered a secret nook, just big enough for a child to squeeze into, where he could eavesdrop on the lessons. It was in such hidden moments that he had begun to master the intricacies of speaking Macrodiae.
"Beg not. I am pleased you tried. And as a matter of fact, I am looking for some assistance."
Vel wisely remained silent. Her ear tipped slightly to follow the progress of the last tourists into The Strip. Then, as they vanished into the hissing airlock, past the bored attention of the afternoon bouncer, she turned her formidable gaze upon him. Vel felt as if he were being weighed on some invisible scale.
"I search for a person. Someone without reservation. Someone in need. Someone...in a position of understated power. Someone who may be just a little desperate. This person may even be wanted by the authorities."
Vel let his eyes wander in consideration as he shrugged. That would describe any number of the hundreds currently residing at The Strip or anywhere in the desert, for that matter. People of this desert regularly took advantage of each other. It was a dak eat dak planet, even in the cities. Swaggering only slightly, he backed away toward the building while motioning gracefully to the door.
"I'm happy to guide you if you like. We could start at the bounty board? I feel I should warn you, though, I am expensive."
The Macrodiae followed, walking steadily, confidently, unafraid that she might be attacked at any point. He wondered now, who was she? Was hogging just her idea of fun? Vel shook off the question. None of his business, he thought wryly.
"Is there anyone else like you here?"
Her question was not answered by Vel but by the barking laugh of the bouncer. He reached for the airlock trigger in an almost gentlemanly fashion.
"Lady. Ain't nobody like Vel anywhere."
The weight of the Macrodiae gaze settled upon the bouncer with unnerving attention. She did not blink. The bouncer coughed and stepped away from the door. Well impressed, Vel followed, avoiding the sweep of that giant tail.
"What is your job, Vel?"
"Oh, I'm a joat. Sometimes I help the bouncers, sometimes I hunt bounties, and sometimes I just watch the bar. I even clean the machines on a real strap day. I can be trusted not to steal from them."
The Macrodiae grunted sympathetically. She appeared to understand the lingo. Did she live with humans?
She approached a bar. Predictably, people, both employee and tourist, got out of her way. Macrodiae were rumored to be impatient, and even the weakest could do significant damage. While she ordered, Vel could hear wondering whispers from the employees. The people at the gaming machines surrounding the bar mindlessly bet credit after credit. Their pointless gaze only shifted when the machine lit up a jackpot or a new drink happened to appear next to them. The bar was more active, where people laughed and joked with each other in between pressing the bartender for drinks or drugs.
When the Macrodiae returned, she held a bottle of a popular concoction and another question.
"What do you usually do with your bounties?"
A slight panicky feeling set in. Was she intent on interfering with a bounty?
"They get returned to the town that requested them. We call it a POI or point of interest. Why do you want to know?"
"In the process of searching bounties, I may find the objective I search for."
"When I accept a hog, I mean a bounty, and find them, you do know I have to take them in. Right?"
"I understand the restrictions of a bounty job. Finding my objective will be highly satisfying. I'm sure I can make arrangements to keep them in the appropriate custody."
Vel was only slightly relieved for himself. If she didn’t want to interfere, she must be looking for a really dreadful target! Maybe a baby rap… Vel couldn't even finish the thought. She hadn’t said in what condition the target would be remanded in. His gorge rose, and he struggled to swallow. The Macrodiae were vengeful against those particular criminals. The phrase "torn to pieces" was kind in the reports he'd heard of what they did to them.
Granted, a few of the slaves here weren't precisely adults. But that was why The Strip did good business. He had even brought a few slaves in for the sales. Never a child, though. He refused to participate in that particular vice. Taking on an Owner was super dangerous, but if he had the strength of Macrodiae on his side, he could afford to take on a heavy for a massive payday!
Expertly Vel wove through the crowd to the escalator. Upstairs, more game machines obstructed any direct pathway. The games were not the only obstruction. Dance stages, drink kiosks, and shopping carts strayed from position to position on purpose. The sound of hundreds of voices, bells, and digital game sounds competed heavily with the aroma of grilled meat, fresh bread, and fruity alcohol. It was nigh impossible for a visitor to avoid distraction.
In the middle of all this madness, Vel waded effortlessly toward a magnificently lit pillar displaying the names and faces of wanted minor thieves and scammers in holographic glory. Anyone could take on these minor bounties. To find the "heavies" or those with genuinely deplorable crimes under their belts, a hogger had to log in to the pillar. Vel placed his hand on the pillar. A list of names appeared, unavailable to the casual user. The Macrodiae seemed to lose interest in him, gazing at the pretty blinking lights and animations around her. The ear pinned on him, however, told him she had not forgotten him in the least. People walking by pointedly ignored them. Vel kept his voice low, knowing those radar dishes the Macrodiae had on her head would hear him just fine.
"Sunshine Belvue. Wanted for murder."
The ear focused on him tipped negatively.
"More cunning, less...blatant."
A shiver of relief. So the Macrodiae wasn't looking for one of those ugly bounties. He briskly reordered the list and tried again.
"Rayso Chalm. Wanted for cheating, tax evasion, theft, illegal sales of gambling equipment, and potential slavery, unproven."
The triangular head tipped and Vel would swear her nonexistent eyebrows rose.
"Is anyone not wanted for slavery here, Vel?"
"Um, usually those wanted for murder?"
The ears flattened a bit.
"I believe we can leave them off the list. This Rayso Chalm. Do you know him?"
Vel's voice took on an unimpressive squeak.
"Me? Nooooo! He's got his own ring. He doesn't hide, but no one has ever actually seen him. His guards don't talk, and his servants don't leave his, um, palace."
Vel's eyes and voice fell slightly, "I can't really tell you any more about him unless I actually see him."
The Macrodiae's gaze lifted and Vel could breathe again, at least for the moment.
"That still sounds promising. What do you need?"
Vel couldn't help it. His eyes lit up.
"I'll need an advance, a vehicle, and you'll have to vouch for your intent with me. A few forms. Nothing big."
This time it wasn’t her gaze that impaled him, it was that she went absolutely still. The whole planet seemed to move around her, the Macrodiae statue. Her gravitas was magnetic. Vel’s skin prickled pins and needles. He fancied he could smell a metallic bite coming off her fur, like imminent lightning.
"I will require assurances.”
Her words were soft, only for him, yet he heard them as if no one else existed. It caused him to stumble and stutter.
"Ash...assurances?"
"If you get your objective, you pay me back half. If you lose your objective….you come with me."
"What?"
Dak that squeak! He was twenty frakking years old!
The ears slowly and painfully laid back until they were against her neck, where the hair had pulled up away from her skin. There was no growl, but the anger was so implied that Vel could smell the blood in his sinuses in response to the threat.
"I am not a terribly forgiving Macrodiae Vel. If I lose an objective, I will need compensation."
Don’t give in! Vel’s brain yelled at him.
"I..if...If I get the...him...then I pay you b b back...one quarter!"
The terrified stutter was noticed by more than one patron who edged away from the both of them abruptly. Suddenly, it was as if she'd never been threatening at all. Her fur smoothed, her ears came up, and she drank down the rest of the stinking alcoholic fruit drink in almost one swallow. She looked…pleased?
Section 4: The confrontation. Both of them must play their part to try to capture Chalm, but the focus must be on Vel’s part. I am unsure if I have left this too sparse or if his efforts are appropriate. I need to show that Vel is canny and brave while at the same time, flexible when he runs into an obstacle. At this point in the story Ak becomes secondary to Vel.
"Done. How much of an advance do you need?"
Vel would have fallen down if he hadn’t been leaning against the pillar. He forced down the knot in his throat and breathed in a few lungfuls of stale casino air.
"Ten thousand Cren. Standard advance for a contract. We'll have to go to the notary office to sign."
Gratefully, the Macrodiae had no other demands. With a signed contract in hand, they traveled to the vehicle lot.
"Do you want to maybe try a game before we leave?"
She flipped a hand dismissively, crushing all his hopes of perhaps a free couple grande.
"I would rather we get started. I cannot be too long about my business. How do you propose we proceed?"
"The best way to get from A to B is a straight line, friend. So let's not give Rayso a chance to get any reports of our interest."
"Beard the lion in its den?"
"What's a lion?"
"That is not important. Let's go."
In the airfoil, he ensured the power pack was full and the canopy intact. Then he turned to the Macrodiae once more.
"His house workers will probably ignore us quite easily once we’re inside. They have no love for him. I, of course, can sneak in easily. You, however, would be impossible to hide and have absolutely no reason to be there. So if you can think of something to help get you inside before we get there, yeah, that'd be great," he muttered and sped off toward the dusty mountain pass.
The pathway to the fortress was a giant pounded concrete concourse. There was absolutely nowhere to hide and no way to get a vehicle beyond the rippled stone pedestals at the entrance. Vel flipped his map out.
"There is a servant entrance around the back of the whole fortress, near the garbage burners. I can get in there, but you definitely won't fit. Gotta propo?"
The Macrodiae nodded shortly.
"I propose the truth."
"What?"
"I will walk up to the front door. I am searching for someone. I need help. The truth is always easier than a lie."
"Oh! That...didn't occur to me that it might work in this situation."
"And you, Vel? How will you get into the servant's entrance?"
"I have ways."
Vel dangled a set of highly illegal laser tooth picks from his finger. A smile twitched in the Macrodiae's eyes.
“I’m going to get in and get as close to Chalm as I can. When I call, come running and we’ll subdue him.”
"And our plan B?"
"My plan B is that I yell for you early if plan A goes flapdacked. You won't need a plan B. If they don't like you, they'll just kick you out, not kill you."
Without preamble, the Macrodiae began walking up the concourse in the open, past the rippled stone pedestals. The silky dust brown cloak the Macrodiae had put on fluttered gently as if even the breeze were bowing to her intimidating presence. Vel idly wondered who her tailor was, and at the sound of the loud challenge of, "HOLD THERE! State your business!"
He was off. It was a frantic scramble across the rocky ridge below the fortress. The rocks bit into his palms as he pressed himself against the sun warmed face. The drop off beneath him grew steeply. Taking the winding pathway up to the entrance would have been like spitting into the wind. There wasn’t much chance of a camera catching his activities here. He finally slithered up to the door. The obstacle was pathetically vulnerable to him, though not without its own dangers. Instead of sliding in, the door slid upward, and he knew that without a code, the second he passed the door, he'd find himself trapped by heavy iron pikes coming down from above. A kill hole. Splatters on the doorway advertised the misfortune of the last person to attempt entry. Or perhaps an exit if it had been a slave.
Vel inserted pick after pick until he heard a "hunk" of locks falling into place to secure the iron pikes. Even so, as the door came up, he scrambled forward hastily. True to its inimical nature, the iron pikes slammed down behind him on a timed release. Ahead, he could see the stone hallway splintered into various curves. Somewhere there was a stairway leading up. His fingertips brushed the rock of the hallway. It felt rough, almost sandy. The corridor floors were scrubbed smooth. He paused to listen for sounds and then unerringly he crept up on a door from which smells of food emanated. Some of them were okay. Fish. Fried fish. This was expensive fare on a desert planet. The servant exiting the kitchen took no notice of him huddling there, and he followed as silently as possible. He took note of every turn until they reached what he knew had to be the audience chamber. But the servant did not stop. Instead, he took a set of stairs off the chamber. Biting his lip, Vel decided to turn toward the audience chamber instead. Chained to a wall in the short servant's passage, a slave bent to the stone floor, scrubbing listlessly. Vel put a finger to his lips and pulled out a concentrated rat pack. The slave swallowed hard and nodded vigorously, then stuffed the pack containing a food bar and a water pouch into the front of her ratty outfit. Vel crept in as silent as a mouse, hearing the strident tones of Rayso querying this stranger.
"What do YOU want?'
"As I informed your staff, I am searching for a person. I am prepared to reward anyone who can find said person."
"What person you look for, rat face?"
Vel flinched. The epithets would get worse from here. The purpose was to drive up the price the mark would pay. He ignored the Macrodiae's reply. He had his own job to do. The sound of Rayso's voice was tinny and bright. It was definitely coming from a speaker. So that weasel wasn't even brave enough to face strangers in his own fortress. He was somewhere else...like where the fish went? Who else would be able to afford treats like that?
Vel stepped back out into the corridor, and the servant scrubbed with more vigor now, ignoring him completely.
Vel’s hand brushed his jacket. The lump of his Cren wallet struck his fingers and he hesitated, one foot on the stairs. He had ten thousand Cren in his pocket. He looked back down the corridor. Ten thousand Cren was enough to live off for a whole six months! Certainly enough for a sleep ticket to one of the other Central worlds. He was "pretty" sure that the Macrodiae would forget him? But without actually turning in the bounty, he wouldn't get the three hundred thousand that was possible. Three hundred thousand minus twenty-five hundred Cren. Greed warred with caution. Then his brain pulled a fast one. An unholy sensation of responsibility, of his own steadfast morality tapped at his shoulder. He had made a promise. Breaking it was problematic at best, and nightmare inducing at its worst. He glanced down at the servant who was now flicking glances at him nervously, wide-eyed, obviously afraid he'd renege on his offer of food. Almost kindly, he shook his head at her. She went back to scrubbing.
"I'm gonna regret this," he muttered savagely, hoping beyond hope that when he called on the wrist pad, the Macrodiae would come running to back him up. He set foot to stair and crept up carefully. He passed door after door to other hallways, all locked, all silent. Finally, at the top was a richly appointed hallway, obviously private apartments. He ducked away from a strolling patrol. They definitely hadn't been hit in a while. The patrols were way too relaxed. A curtained alcove provided cover as he strained for the sound of Rayso's voice.
"Hey!"
Wisely, he held his ground, didn’t move, didn’t flinch, barely breathed. Thicker footsteps of a heavyset human approached the lighter steps Vel recognized as the servant with the fish. The slit in the curtain provided an admirable view as long as he held perfectly still. Rudely the patrol snatched what was left on the plate and stuffed it in his face, then let the servant continue on their way down the stairs. Vel rolled his eyes silently. Besides having no manners, Vel could tell that this was just intimidation aimed at those of lesser rank alone. Without that cudgel he carried, even Vel could take him. However, that would draw too much attention.
Just for fun, Vel walked right behind the thug within his footsteps even, making a face at him until the patrol reached the end of the hallway, and Vel silently dove for another handy alcove. While under the table there, he set his wristpad to the wall. The jiggles of sound transmitted through the rock of the wall resolved themselves into a rough map, and Vel made a decision. At the nearest door he cursed silently, seeing a security system he knew only the patrol would have a key for.
Well, desperate times and all that. He pulled off his leather jerkin and folded up the cuffs of his pants, then mussed his hair and smoothed it roughly. He at least looked like a harried kitchen worker. Slickly he snatched a copper cup from the table in the alcove and boldly stepped out, fishing for the small flask in his pocket. A few heavy drips into the jug of water sitting next to the cup, and he carried a rather refreshing drink for the overworked patrol. As he approached the patrol with the offering, he saw the eyes narrow almost suspiciously. Vel was careful not to react, giving him the now fruit-flavored water with polite deference. Acting the part, he turned smartly after the guard had taken a cup and then marched back down the stairs one turn.
He hesitated for a count of one hundred, then climbed back up. Gratifyingly, the patrol was flat out on the ground, having succumbed reliably to the netto in the flask. Vel snatched up the keys and ran for the door he’d chosen. His wristpad gave him little information beyond the fact that, yes, the key would work. Unfortunately, it couldn't tell him how many people stood behind the door or even if Rayso was even here, but it was better than hanging around all day!
"Hey!"
Vel whirled and automatically put his wristpad to his mouth.
"The jig is up! Back of the chamber and up the stairs to the left!"
A heavy-handed blow smashed into the wall next to his head. His heart skipped as he heard the man call for more hands. Thank dak this one was clumsy! Rayso obviously didn't trust his security with bladed weapons. A wise choice, even if this guard was more observant than the first.
Vel kept dodging and was gratified to hear heavy thumping from the stairs. Suddenly the guard was sent flying as the Macrodiae literally leaned back on her tail and lashed out at the man with her two back feet. A moment later guards began appearing from all kinds of entrances to surround them. Vel began to feel panic. Was there another way out? There should be at least three ways out! One of which was inside what he thought was Rayso's room. As the Macrodiae and bounty hunter backed up toward each other, they saw the door open and a man almost as gigantic as the Macrodiae step out.
"Back away, boys."
Vel felt his heart almost fail as the door swung shut behind the man, who could only be Rayso. This was power. He had once had a share of fat, but now it was muscle mass in the arms and legs. This was not a stupid man either, as he looked shrewdly at the pair. Vel was dawningly aware that he could wind up never leaving this place. Alive or dead! Rayso was cool as a salad green and had the reins of his empire entirely in hand. He was capable of killing everyone and never even bat an eye at the consequences. Luckily he was not known for rough justice. Something in the way Rayso had said "boys" froze Vel. But Rayso's eyes slid away from Vel as if he were of no consequence whatsoever. He knew that Vel had no backup, no drone, no hypos, no projectile weapons, no lasers, no hope.
"You were searching for someone, Macrodiae? Now you've found someone. Funny. I know who you are. I had just enough time to find out. I can't touch you, but if you chose to make it a one-on-one battle…"
The grin was nasty. The Macrodiae lowered her ears and shook her head.
"I do not. Our plan was to take you unaware."
"Well, it would have been entertaining."
Now he turned to Vel. Amusement filled his eyes.
"You really have no idea what you've gotten into, you little snake. You've stunk up enough of my plans to make me glad at what's gonna happen to you.”
Rayso’s steps echoed as he walked back to the door he’d exited from. He waved negligently.
“Get them the frak out of here."
The Macrodiae was observed warily as she descended. Vel, however, was snatched by his collar and pants, then frog-marched like a puppet until they got to the audience room. The floor polisher was kicked out of the way. Helpfully Vel grinned at her before the guard shook him so hard his teeth rattled.
The audience room was opulent in a spare, intimidating way. Ancient weapons adorned the walls, fully decorated with blood! Granite tables carved with delicate artwork lined the sides of the room. This obviously also held massive parties for entertainment, with Rayso taking the seat of honor on high.
They were tossed quite ceremoniously out the door. As Vel felt his face connect with the unyielding stone of the ground an explosion of pain heralded the loss of a tooth as well as innumerable . Then, as the guard patrol turned to go back inside, the Macrodiae bent gracefully next to him.
"Are you hurt?"
He spat out the remains of his tooth and felt the jagged saw edge with his tongue.
"Only my ego, really. I guess we don't get a second chance, do we?"
Firmly she helped Vel to his feet.
"You wish to take on Rayso in a frontal assault now that you know what he looks like? Or perhaps this time drop down from the ceiling trying to smoke him out with sleep bombs?"
Vel looked up hopefully, "could we?"
"No."
"So I failed."
"You failed Vel. I did not."
"What do you mean?"
"Rayso was quite perceptive. My name is Captain Ak of the Space Navy. I do need a person, and the person I am looking for, Vel, is you."
"Me? What do you mean, me?"
"You showed all the qualities I am searching for, Vel. I needed to test those qualities. I need someone who understands that the line between right and wrong is sometimes not as carved in rock as we think it is. Someone a little cunning, a little sympathetic, and quite brave. You have tactical sense, Vel, and ultimately though you missed out on three hundred thousand Cren, I think you'll like what I'm offering a lot more."
"Five hundred thousand?"
That deep Macrodiae chuckle greeted him.
"No. Respect and a place to do something worthwhile Vel. You'll still have to prove yourself to my superiors, but it won't be as hard as this was. Well, not physically anyway. Can you restrain some of your wilder instincts? Can you follow certain rules? To work with a team? If you can, I can promise that you will see things no human has ever seen, and you will be one of the first to do so."
Back in the vehicle, the Macrodiae turned to him once more.
"You had a chance to run with that money back there, Vel. It wouldn't have been worth my time to count you as a bounty. So why didn't you?"
Vel’s face twisted.
"I want more."
"More money?"
Inexplicably, Vel wanted to know more about what this Macrodiae offered. In order to do that, he knew he’d have to offer something more personal. If he did, maybe someday he could come back with enough money to explore every inch of the desert.
"I gave my rat pack to that little floor polisher," he replied inexplicably.
Ak's ears smiled for her, touching at the tips.
Ak watched as the Space Navy boot camp authorities took Vel in hand. There would be more soul searching. He'd have to endure the recruitment trials, but she had faith. He would learn fast, and when her ship was ready, he would be too.