"The patch just isn't taking, Mil. Even with the override codes you gave me, her core systems won't let this code take root."
"Give it another try, Joule." Mil took a bite from the taco plate he'd bought from the place just below them and continued to watch out the window. The meat was too greasy to be synth, but he tried not to think about that. He kept his mind on the time and his eyes on the street.
"Dammit, Mil. I was supposed to go dancing tonight. I've got friends waiting on me. Hot friends, Mil. Hot. Friends. Do you think I dress this way to eat greasy Mexican food and fix broken sex robots?"
"Thanks, by the way." Adri was stretched out face-down on Joule's bed. Her dress was unzipped to below her shoulder blades and a bit of her skin, about the size of a half-dollar, had been carefully cut away from her spine to allow access to her diagnostic port.
"Yeah, yeah." Joule bit her thumbnail and re-ran the installation procedures from her tablet. Mil could be a stubborn old bastard sometimes, but she didn't want to lose him as a regular. She knew he would put up with her complaints for a while but she didn't want to risk pushing him away. He paid too good.
A few minutes later, a generic looking sedan that might have been dark blue or dark green pulled up to Joule's third floor balcony. Mil put down the remains of his taco plate and stepped outside. The door slid back revealing an empty cockpit, empty save for a small suitcase sitting on the seat. Mil grabbed it and brought it inside.
Joule's tablet beeped at her. "Failed again, Mil. Want me to run it again?" She drummed her fingers on the screen and rolled her head back to stare into the darkness.
"No need. The car's here and that means we're out of time." Mil opened the suitcase and pulled out a change of clothes for Adri which he put on the bed at her feet and a change of clothes for himself. "Adri, you'll just have to wait for me here. Once I make the drop I'll come back and we'll figure out what to do then."
"Mil, don't you dare try to leave me again. Joule, would you check my schematics and tell me where my network antenna is located?"
Joule did a search of the document. "It's in your left arm and runs from the base of your wrist to just above your elbow." Joule used her finger to trace the path of the antenna on Adri's arm.
"Fine then. I don't need two arms tonight. We'll take the left one off at the shoulder and get a replacement when things cool down."
Joule flipped the page. "And there's a redundant backup in your right hand, from the tip of the pinky to the base of the wrist."
Mil sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, Adri, I don't want to leave you behind any more than you want to be left behind. But lets not go lopping off limbs, okay? I promise I won't be long and I will be back as fast as I can. If you don't want to hang out in Joule's apartment, you can wander the burgo. There's about five and a half city blocks here all bordered by small canals. Don't cross the water and your network antenna won't be picked up, okay?" A little voice in Mil's head reminded him that he was comforting a robot. He told the voice to shush and mind its own business.
Joule wrinkled her nose and flipped a few more pages. "There might be one more option. I'm looking at the 'low power' settings. It appears that I can designate her wireless networking system as 'low priority'. That will cause it to turn her link off if and when her power levels drop below thirty percent."
Adri's eyes lit up. "Oh! What's my power level at now?"
"Eighty seven percent."
Adri slumped.
Mil sighed. "After all we've been through tonight? Adri, you'd have to spend two days swimming laps around this whole burgo to get your power levels down that low."
"Or we could take out four of her five rechargeable power cells. From the sound of it, she can go a long way on just twenty percent. They'd be easy to take out, too. It'd be messy since we don't have the right tools to cut her skin and we'd have to be careful about the coolant lines that run near the cells. But once we had her open the cells themselves are meant to be hot swapped. We're probably looking at five minutes tops for the whole deal."
Adri's wide-eyed animation was back. "Well, what are we waiting for?"
Mil threw his hands up in silent frustration and stood up.
"Okay, but let's move to the shower for this, okay guys? If she pops a line, I don't want this apartment to stink of robot coolant for the rest of my life. And, Mil, you can come do the cutting. I'm am not getting this outfit dirty. As soon as you fools are gone, I'm out the door."
Adri kept dozing off. When they were talking or when she was actively looking around at the city, she was just fine. But once the rain started and the view disappeared, she started slipping into cat-naps every few minutes. It was likely just some form of power saving function kicking in, but it was making Mel nervous.
"Where are we now, Mel?" Adri was awake again and holding her abdomen where they'd made the cuts. The rain hadn't let up much, but the traffic they were in was low altitude and close enough to the walls for her to take in the colonial-Gothic architecture of the area.
"We're in the Flores Vermelhas burgo. We'll be at the airport, and the drop point, in about half an hour. Once we're there, I may need to you take the wheel for a bit. I've never met this buyer before and I'll be happier if we're ready to go on a moment's notice. So maybe get some more sleep before then?"
"Okay, Mel. Good idea." Adri slid back down in her seat, eventually falling back to sleep once they passed over the canal into the Geulaendeu Silheom burgo. Apparently the twenty-meter tall advertisements for personal electronics and custom tea flavors wasn't as eye-opening to her as sky scrapers designed to look like homes and temples from millenniums' past.
Traffic in Geulaendeu Silheom was always thick and today was no exception. Bored with the simplicity of the drive, Mil let the controls fold in and and the car went into autodrive mode.
Mil let his mind drift and his eyes wander across the vast field of advertisements. Although there was a lot of repetition some of them could be entertaining.
One in particular caught his eye. At first he only noticed it because it was being played on a continuous loop in so many locations; wherever he looked there it was. Then he though it was strange for its simplicity. Most of the advertisements in this burgo were flashy with bright colors, but this one was simple. Ostensibly it was an advertisement for a drama serial. A geisha sat on a rice mat with a shamisen on her lap. She spoke to the camera as sub-titles carried her words to the commuters below. "You don't know what you've taken from me. Don't believe the lies you've been told. I'm begging you to look inside and make the right choice." A spash-screen came up informing the viewer that the unnamed show would be broadcasting soon and then the short would repeat itself.
Mil watched the ad roll past a dozen times. Something about it was bothering him. Suddenly, he jerked up in his seat fast enough to startle Adri. "What's wrong. Are we there, Mil?"
"Adri. Look over there. Do you see the advertisement with the geisha? Who is that? Who is the actress in that ad? Do you recognize her?"
Adri watched the ad just once before she spun and looked Mil right in the eyes. "Mil, that's Sapphire Jay!"
Mil pulled the old red vbox out of his pocket and stared at it. Look inside and make the right choice, she said. She must have been referring to the files in the vbox.
"Mil, put it away. Sapphire Jay is not a nice person. She's not above using circular code as part of her security."
Adri was right to be worried. If Sapphire or Timoteus had used any form of trap code as part of the security for this vbox, any unauthorized user could be seriously injured just by logging into it. But something told him that wasn't the case. Timoteus was a well known pacifist and everything about their history together said that Sapphire was genuinely in love with him. Mil couldn't believe that she would adulterate anything that was part of that history.
Mil extended one of the port cables from the vbox. "Adri, I've been told that this is Timoteus Reed's musical journal. The one he used his whole career and the same one he was using when his band's plane crashed. If that's true, then it's nothing but a big file of musical notation from a young idealist and we can safely cash in on moving it from one collector to another. If it's really something else, then we need to know what it is before we can decide what to do with it."
Adri opened her mouth to object but then bit her lip instead. "Okay, Mil. But just ten seconds, right? If it's nothing but music files you should know in ten seconds. After that, I'm pulling you out."
"Thirty seconds. And if I'm not out by then, you take my commpen and call Celeste. She's a good friend and she'll know what to do."
Mil plugged the vbox into the port at the base of his neck and waited for the system to boot. If a heads-up display of file folder names came across his vision he'd be okay. If it was anything else...
Ah hell, it was a trap after all.
Mil looked around at the illusion the vbox was generating for him. It was really high rez and incredibly detailed. Despite the hot water he was in, he couldn't help but be impressed by it.
He was sitting on a wooden bench overlooking a vibrant jungle valley. The sun was high in the sky and warm on his skin. He could hear tropical birds singing and insects humming. He was wearing a simple one-piece robe that felt like silk and whose buttons appeared to be hand crafted from old bone. Turning on the bench, he saw an elaborate house made of teak and bamboo with clay roof tiles the color of malachite.
"Well at least Sapphire made it a pretty trap."
"Sure, Sapphire made it, but I've never really thought of it as a trap before. Thirsty?" A little man wearing the same kind of robe jingled a glass of ice tea at Mil.
"Are you... are you supposed to be Timoteus Reed?" Mil stared at the avatar in the doorway. He was bearded and had much longer hair than in those days, but if Reed had survived that plane crash and retired to live out his life in an idyllic mountain retreat, Mil imagined he'd look exactly like this.
"Yeah, man that's me. Come in out of the sun, brother. It get's really hot during the day. I was just sitting down to have a bite to eat."
Mil accepted the glass of illusory tea and followed the Reed-avatar inside. There was no door to keep out the heat, but the floor was made out of large slabs of marble that cooled his feet. Each end of the long building was open to the elements, allowing a cool breeze to drift though.
Reed walked past a table covered in fresh cut fruit and gestured an invitation to get comfortable. He continued on to a chair with a guitar sitting by it. "Man, it's been a real long time since I've had a visitor other than Sapphire. I mean, I'm what you might normally call a hermit, right? But company is nice once in a while. Hey, wanna hear something I've been working on?"
Mil watched the old-Reed avatar closely. It was really impressive. Was this some kind of tribute that Sapphire had built to Timoteus? "Actually, I'm kind of curious; if you don't mind me asking, does Sapphire Jay visit you regularly?"
"Yeah, man. Sapphie visits about once a month. Sometimes she brings a guest or two, but usually it's just her. I mean, that's like, once a month for me, right? It's about once a week in her time. She's cool about giving me my space."
"'Her time'? You mean you...?"
"Yeah, brother, I know I'm in a vbox. Been dead for twenty-odd years now, haven't I?" Reed smiled and strummed softly on his guitar. "Sapphie doesn't know you're here, does she? Are you up to no good, brother?"
"No, she doesn't. And yeah, I've been contracted to obtain your vbox for a client."
"So you're a thief?"
"Yeah."
"That's not cool, man. You should bring the box back to Sapphie. I'm guessing your client isn't going to be as accommodating about my privacy, you know? Say, do you play any instruments?"
"No, I... So, Sapphire programmed you to know that Timoteus Reed is dead? That you're dead? I'm sorry, I know I'm repeating myself, but I'm having a little bit of a hard time understanding what's going on here."
Reed placed his guitar back on the marble and leaned forward. "It's like this; Back in the day when we were touring, this was my escape-place. Sapphie designed it for me. At first it was just how we talked about what we wanted to do when we retired. Then it became the place where I was comfortable writing and meditating. I could log in at breakfast, spend a week being by myself, and then back with the band before a lunchtime rehearsal."
"Then one day it occurred to me that'd I'd been here a really long time and that I couldn't unplug. Man, that was a dark time. It was nearly a year before Sapphie came to visit me. She told that I was dead and she had recovered my vbox with the wreckage."
"So, like, am I glitch in the vbox; just an attempt to keep the avatar going when no one told it to stop? Or am I a memory of myself, something that's only here to keep Sapphie happy when she's had a bad week? Who the fuck knows, man. Life is strange, that's all I know."
Mil leaned back and absent-mindedly took a bite of fruit. It was cold and sweet. If he didn't know any better he would swear that he was eating real fruit in a real house on a real mountain.
"So, you're saying that Sapphire designed this place, but that you just never left it, is that right?"
"That about sums it up, brother. Boggles the mind, doesn't it?" Timoteus leaned back and started playing his guitar again. This time Mil let him play it all the way through without interrupting him. It was really good. Like any good song played by a great artist, Mil could hear the emotion in the notes. That was something he'd never heard in computer generated music before today.
Once the song was over, Mil wiped the fruit from his hands. "I should be going. Is there a trick to bringing up an interface?"
"Yeah, brother. Just say 'it's time to get back to work.' Good luck to you, brother. I suspect you've got a tough decision to make."
"It's time to get back to work." The HUD that Mil expected when he first logged in appeared in the air in front of him. He scrolled down until the option to log out appeared.
The house faded out and the interior of the car faded back in.
"Mil? Are you okay? I was about ready to call your friend Celeste." Adri reached behind him and gently unplugged the vbox for him.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Take the wheel, will you? There's an address on Bosun street in the nav. Let's go get you fixed up properly. Give me the commpen, will you?"
Mil dialed. "Celeste? I'm sorry, love. False alarm. The vbox I got from Sapphire Jay is fake. There's nothing in it. Nope, not even something for the gossip pages. It's garbage. Yeah, sorry Celeste. Give me a call when you get something new though, would you? I've run up some hefty expenses on this job and now I've got nothing to show for it."
Mil glanced over at Adri. "Well, almost nothing."
TR Vanguard - Part Four
"We have just over six minutes before the security network finishes its diagnostic. At that time they will be alerted to our thievery." The eMA-Doll in the grey dress closed and re-locked the glass case where Timoteus Reed's original vbox used to sit.
"Thanks, Doll. I guess it's time for me to be going. What's the fastest way to a parking deck?" Mil slipped the piece of musical history into his pocket and looked wistfully at the artifacts in the room. This little hidden room off of the master bedroom was a treasure trove of TR Vanguard memorabilia: instruments, posters, hand-written notebooks; and he didn't have time for any of it.
"The closest parking deck is the loading bay two floors down. Follow me, technician Greeves. I'll show you the way. And please, call me Adri."
"Adri? Nice name. You can call me Mil."
Adri led Mil back down to the party, past the kitchen, into the pantry, and through a concealed door into the service hallways. Through a labyrinthine series of brightly lit halls, doors, and robot-friendly ramps they went, with Adri never hesitating in her choice of turn.
The halls didn't have a lot of cameras in them; security here was more about keeping track of errant delivery robots than tracking thieves. None the less, Mil did his best to walk casually while never looking directly at any of the sensors.
"The loading bay is only a few meters past this doorway here." Adri delicately pointed at the door, like a hand model displaying an expensive piece of jewelry. "However, sensors show that there is a lot of traffic here. I suggest we go down one more level, then come up through a ventilation access point which will place us directly on the landing pad."
"How much time do we have before the vbox is reported missing?"
"Less than two minutes."
"How long to come up through the vents?"
"The walk to the access point is short. However, the climb up may be taxing. With my assistance, I predict we could complete the maneuver in four to five minutes."
Mil clicked his tongue. "Too long. They might decide to lock down the doors once the alarm is sounded. Let's go the direct route."
"As you say, Mil." Adri leaned forward to grasp the door handle. "Mil? I'm having fun."
The door opened to reveal a break room and, immediately past it, a loading bay big enough for five or six full size trucks to load and unload. Past that, was a series of three bay doors, each wide enough for two trucks to enter or leave at the same time. Since the weather was good, the laborers had left one open and the city skyline was visible just past the parked trucks.
One of the workers in the break room looked up when Mil laughed at Adri's comment about having fun. But he went right back to his instant lunch, never giving them a second look.
Mil fished his commpen from his pocket and summoned his car. Only two of the truck parking spots were taken up and neither of them were near the open bay door, so there was plenty of room for it to gently fly in and park.
"Okay, Adri. Thank you for your help. Please return to Sapphire Jay's apartment and resume your customer-oriented programming." Mil turned to his car and the bone white door slid back along its marble white frame to allow him access.
"No. I'm going with you." Adri slipped by him like a snake and ducked into the car before he could object.
Mil didn't know what to say. He stared at her, trying to resolve what he'd just seen and heard. He'd met some fancy dolls before, but Adri took the award for authenticity, attitude, and, well... pretty much everything else. Everything but being a good robot and doing what the heck she was told.
"The silent alarm has been sounded. Are you coming?" Adri scooted to the far side to give Mil room to get in.
Looking back he saw some of the workers talking to each other and pointing his way. Looking up he saw the bay door start its slow roll to the ground. He'd have to argue with the crazy robot later. For now it was time to get on the move. Mil folded himself into the car and selected emergency course options that would get them out into traffic without worrying about override codes from the closing door.
Adri craned her neck to look around. The sun was low and the sky was unusually clear. They could see the city rolling out beneath them in every direction. Below them the air traffic appeared as serenely flowing multi-layered rivers of smoke. As they became part of one of those rivers, she could occasionally make out large craft that made out the canal traffic below.
"Mil, I'm seeing three security drones headed our way. Interception in less than a minute." Her wireless connection has unconsciously slipped from the building's network to the public one while she was enjoying the sights. In her mind she could see the drones zooming past traffic behind them, ignoring the lane restrictions to get to them as fast as possible.
"Wait, what? This car has a custom cycling transponder. How the hell are they following that?" Mil activated the manual controls and pulled them out of traffic. Jumping the lanes was going to attract all the wrong attention, but if they were already being followed he didn't have any better options.
"I think they're following me." She looked carefully at the emergency vehicles' signatures. She opened the file with their authorization for direct pathing and scanned for her serial number. There she was. "It's my connection to the network that they're following. We won't be able to escape them."
"The hell we won't." Mil disabled the the safety overrides on the car to prevent it from trying to stabilize them. Then, with both feet he pulled back on the throttle and the floaters while pressing forward with the control yoke. The car stalled then nose dived down into the city. A dozen layers of traffic flashed by them on either side as the canal below rushed up to meet them. Just above a giant passenger ferry, he slammed both pedals to the floor and yanked back on the yolk.
Half the folks on the ferry raised their drink and cheered as the car sped just a few meters over their heads. The other half never bothered looking up. "There's nothing new in the city," they'd remark to their friends later.
Mil kept the speed up and brought their altitude down to just over the canal. Weaving in and out of traffic, their floater engines threw canal water on every vessel they passed.
Adri released her grip on the door handle and straightened the hem of her dress. "That... that was a lot of new sensations for me." She looked back at her sensors. The security drones were still way above them and were requesting authorization to drop down to canal level as well as additional units for backup. Mil had bought them a few minutes at most. "I'm having fun, Mil. But I can't disconnect myself from the network. They will catch us eventually."
"There are network deadspots on the island. Some of them bigger than others." Mil grunted as he narrowly avoided swamping a pleasure junk. "We'll get you to one of the bigger ones. That'll buy us enough time to... "
"Mil! Security drones straight ahead!"
Mil pulled back and to the right on the yoke in an effort to get over and around them. Too late he noticed that the boat on his right had an unlit antenna mast. It was practically invisible in the long evening shadows. One of the intake scoops on the car caught the antenna full-on and it sent them into a spin.
Mil tried correcting, but it was too late. The right side floaters had spun down and caused a lateral spin. The car careened into an open air cafe, bounced, and landed belly-up in the flower garden of a public park.
Once the car ceased its spinning, the doors automatically popped their rails and fell harmlessly away. Mil and Adri tumbled out as well.
Mil pushed himself to his knees. His forehead and cheek felt both wet and numb. He didn't bother reaching up to feel with his hands, he didn't need to know just how bad it was yet.
"Mil, get up. Get up, we've got to run." Adri hooked her arm under Mil's and lifted him to his feet. "Now, Mil."
He was having trouble seeing clearly, so relinquished control to her and concentrated on pressing one foot in front of the other. She led him down a shadowed alley and helped him up and over a retaining wall. Once they were fully out of sight she let him stand on his own.
"I think this is where we part, Mil. I'll head that way to lead them off..."
"Wait." Mil pulled out his commpen and typed cautiously and deliberately. The blood kept running into his eyes and he didn't want to screw this up. They were much too far from a network dead zone to walk there. She'd get caught and rebooted for sure. But, with a little luck, they might have access to something very close by.
"I'm sorry, Mil. We just don't have time. Thanks for the fun." Adri did her little hand-model wave and took off running.
"Adri! Wait!" He held out his commpen to her. "Look at this. Look at it. If you can find a door registry like this nearby, we can slip away from them."
Adri looked back at the wall they had vaulted. One of the security patrols was coming down the alley now. They were out of time. She looked at Mil. He was just standing there holding that damned pen at her. He wasn't going to run. He was going to get caught.
She ran back to him and put his arm over her shoulders as she took the pen from him. She read the 128-digit door registry and then looked at the local security map. It was close. Really close.
A spotlight hit them. "Get on the ground now! You are under the authority of..."
Adri pulled Mil close and ran. Crack-crack-crack! Crack-crack-crak! Two bursts of auto fire tore into her. Internal warnings about fluid levels went berserk. Her legs and arms weren't affected though and soon they were out of the line of fire.
They reached the door in a handful of strides. It was an access point for the drainage system. A door leading into a shack that would lead down below the city. Holding Mil in one arm Adri tore the cover off the security panel with the other. Artificial nails shattered as hand-crafted skin was torn. Adri punched in the code that came with the door registry information on Mil's pen.
"This is going to be rough, Mil." Behind the door was the ladder. Bisecting the ladder was an aluminum pipe that ran the whole length uninterrupted. She assumed it was some kind of safety device or something that a particular kind of drone could attach to.
"I think I can make my own way down, Doll." Mil patted her shoulder in a way that he meant to be reassuring.
The spotlight found them again. This time there was no warning shout, just gunfire.
Adri wrapped Mil in her arms and jumped for it. With her free hand she held onto the center pole loosely and extended her legs as far as she could to regulate their fall.
Five meters down she lost contact with the network.
Fifteen meters down they met the floor. Adri wasn't ready for it and they both went tumbling.
"Mel!"
Mel grunted to indicate that he was still conscious. "There should be a map of these tunnels on my pen." Mil hoped there was a map, at least. He'd requested one from his fixer but he didn't have the time to check to see if the transfer had gone through before they jumped down. "Can you transfer it to your own memory?"
Adri looked around. She had dropped the pen during the jump. Finding it, she stared at it for a moment. "Sorry Mel, I don't see any signals I can link up with."
"That's okay. Let's get moving before the security team catches up. We'll lose them in these tunnels."
As they trotted away, Mil took a moment to look her over. Her dress was in remarkably good shape but she was leaking fluids where the bullets had pierced her. A thick white goo that constituted a mechanical lubricant and a much thinner translucent mint green coolant dripped down the arm she had used to hold him. It looked like both of them were going to need some repairs once they were done here.
"Hey Adri. Are you still having fun?"
She laughed. "Yeah, Mil. I think I am."
"Good. Because once we're out of the tunnels, we still have work to do."
Adri smiled broadly. One way or another, she wasn't ever going back to that apartment.
"Thanks, Doll. I guess it's time for me to be going. What's the fastest way to a parking deck?" Mil slipped the piece of musical history into his pocket and looked wistfully at the artifacts in the room. This little hidden room off of the master bedroom was a treasure trove of TR Vanguard memorabilia: instruments, posters, hand-written notebooks; and he didn't have time for any of it.
"The closest parking deck is the loading bay two floors down. Follow me, technician Greeves. I'll show you the way. And please, call me Adri."
"Adri? Nice name. You can call me Mil."
Adri led Mil back down to the party, past the kitchen, into the pantry, and through a concealed door into the service hallways. Through a labyrinthine series of brightly lit halls, doors, and robot-friendly ramps they went, with Adri never hesitating in her choice of turn.
The halls didn't have a lot of cameras in them; security here was more about keeping track of errant delivery robots than tracking thieves. None the less, Mil did his best to walk casually while never looking directly at any of the sensors.
"The loading bay is only a few meters past this doorway here." Adri delicately pointed at the door, like a hand model displaying an expensive piece of jewelry. "However, sensors show that there is a lot of traffic here. I suggest we go down one more level, then come up through a ventilation access point which will place us directly on the landing pad."
"How much time do we have before the vbox is reported missing?"
"Less than two minutes."
"How long to come up through the vents?"
"The walk to the access point is short. However, the climb up may be taxing. With my assistance, I predict we could complete the maneuver in four to five minutes."
Mil clicked his tongue. "Too long. They might decide to lock down the doors once the alarm is sounded. Let's go the direct route."
"As you say, Mil." Adri leaned forward to grasp the door handle. "Mil? I'm having fun."
The door opened to reveal a break room and, immediately past it, a loading bay big enough for five or six full size trucks to load and unload. Past that, was a series of three bay doors, each wide enough for two trucks to enter or leave at the same time. Since the weather was good, the laborers had left one open and the city skyline was visible just past the parked trucks.
One of the workers in the break room looked up when Mil laughed at Adri's comment about having fun. But he went right back to his instant lunch, never giving them a second look.
Mil fished his commpen from his pocket and summoned his car. Only two of the truck parking spots were taken up and neither of them were near the open bay door, so there was plenty of room for it to gently fly in and park.
"Okay, Adri. Thank you for your help. Please return to Sapphire Jay's apartment and resume your customer-oriented programming." Mil turned to his car and the bone white door slid back along its marble white frame to allow him access.
"No. I'm going with you." Adri slipped by him like a snake and ducked into the car before he could object.
Mil didn't know what to say. He stared at her, trying to resolve what he'd just seen and heard. He'd met some fancy dolls before, but Adri took the award for authenticity, attitude, and, well... pretty much everything else. Everything but being a good robot and doing what the heck she was told.
"The silent alarm has been sounded. Are you coming?" Adri scooted to the far side to give Mil room to get in.
Looking back he saw some of the workers talking to each other and pointing his way. Looking up he saw the bay door start its slow roll to the ground. He'd have to argue with the crazy robot later. For now it was time to get on the move. Mil folded himself into the car and selected emergency course options that would get them out into traffic without worrying about override codes from the closing door.
Adri craned her neck to look around. The sun was low and the sky was unusually clear. They could see the city rolling out beneath them in every direction. Below them the air traffic appeared as serenely flowing multi-layered rivers of smoke. As they became part of one of those rivers, she could occasionally make out large craft that made out the canal traffic below.
"Mil, I'm seeing three security drones headed our way. Interception in less than a minute." Her wireless connection has unconsciously slipped from the building's network to the public one while she was enjoying the sights. In her mind she could see the drones zooming past traffic behind them, ignoring the lane restrictions to get to them as fast as possible.
"Wait, what? This car has a custom cycling transponder. How the hell are they following that?" Mil activated the manual controls and pulled them out of traffic. Jumping the lanes was going to attract all the wrong attention, but if they were already being followed he didn't have any better options.
"I think they're following me." She looked carefully at the emergency vehicles' signatures. She opened the file with their authorization for direct pathing and scanned for her serial number. There she was. "It's my connection to the network that they're following. We won't be able to escape them."
"The hell we won't." Mil disabled the the safety overrides on the car to prevent it from trying to stabilize them. Then, with both feet he pulled back on the throttle and the floaters while pressing forward with the control yoke. The car stalled then nose dived down into the city. A dozen layers of traffic flashed by them on either side as the canal below rushed up to meet them. Just above a giant passenger ferry, he slammed both pedals to the floor and yanked back on the yolk.
Half the folks on the ferry raised their drink and cheered as the car sped just a few meters over their heads. The other half never bothered looking up. "There's nothing new in the city," they'd remark to their friends later.
Mil kept the speed up and brought their altitude down to just over the canal. Weaving in and out of traffic, their floater engines threw canal water on every vessel they passed.
Adri released her grip on the door handle and straightened the hem of her dress. "That... that was a lot of new sensations for me." She looked back at her sensors. The security drones were still way above them and were requesting authorization to drop down to canal level as well as additional units for backup. Mil had bought them a few minutes at most. "I'm having fun, Mil. But I can't disconnect myself from the network. They will catch us eventually."
"There are network deadspots on the island. Some of them bigger than others." Mil grunted as he narrowly avoided swamping a pleasure junk. "We'll get you to one of the bigger ones. That'll buy us enough time to... "
"Mil! Security drones straight ahead!"
Mil pulled back and to the right on the yoke in an effort to get over and around them. Too late he noticed that the boat on his right had an unlit antenna mast. It was practically invisible in the long evening shadows. One of the intake scoops on the car caught the antenna full-on and it sent them into a spin.
Mil tried correcting, but it was too late. The right side floaters had spun down and caused a lateral spin. The car careened into an open air cafe, bounced, and landed belly-up in the flower garden of a public park.
Once the car ceased its spinning, the doors automatically popped their rails and fell harmlessly away. Mil and Adri tumbled out as well.
Mil pushed himself to his knees. His forehead and cheek felt both wet and numb. He didn't bother reaching up to feel with his hands, he didn't need to know just how bad it was yet.
"Mil, get up. Get up, we've got to run." Adri hooked her arm under Mil's and lifted him to his feet. "Now, Mil."
He was having trouble seeing clearly, so relinquished control to her and concentrated on pressing one foot in front of the other. She led him down a shadowed alley and helped him up and over a retaining wall. Once they were fully out of sight she let him stand on his own.
"I think this is where we part, Mil. I'll head that way to lead them off..."
"Wait." Mil pulled out his commpen and typed cautiously and deliberately. The blood kept running into his eyes and he didn't want to screw this up. They were much too far from a network dead zone to walk there. She'd get caught and rebooted for sure. But, with a little luck, they might have access to something very close by.
"I'm sorry, Mil. We just don't have time. Thanks for the fun." Adri did her little hand-model wave and took off running.
"Adri! Wait!" He held out his commpen to her. "Look at this. Look at it. If you can find a door registry like this nearby, we can slip away from them."
Adri looked back at the wall they had vaulted. One of the security patrols was coming down the alley now. They were out of time. She looked at Mil. He was just standing there holding that damned pen at her. He wasn't going to run. He was going to get caught.
She ran back to him and put his arm over her shoulders as she took the pen from him. She read the 128-digit door registry and then looked at the local security map. It was close. Really close.
A spotlight hit them. "Get on the ground now! You are under the authority of..."
Adri pulled Mil close and ran. Crack-crack-crack! Crack-crack-crak! Two bursts of auto fire tore into her. Internal warnings about fluid levels went berserk. Her legs and arms weren't affected though and soon they were out of the line of fire.
They reached the door in a handful of strides. It was an access point for the drainage system. A door leading into a shack that would lead down below the city. Holding Mil in one arm Adri tore the cover off the security panel with the other. Artificial nails shattered as hand-crafted skin was torn. Adri punched in the code that came with the door registry information on Mil's pen.
"This is going to be rough, Mil." Behind the door was the ladder. Bisecting the ladder was an aluminum pipe that ran the whole length uninterrupted. She assumed it was some kind of safety device or something that a particular kind of drone could attach to.
"I think I can make my own way down, Doll." Mil patted her shoulder in a way that he meant to be reassuring.
The spotlight found them again. This time there was no warning shout, just gunfire.
Adri wrapped Mil in her arms and jumped for it. With her free hand she held onto the center pole loosely and extended her legs as far as she could to regulate their fall.
Five meters down she lost contact with the network.
Fifteen meters down they met the floor. Adri wasn't ready for it and they both went tumbling.
"Mel!"
Mel grunted to indicate that he was still conscious. "There should be a map of these tunnels on my pen." Mil hoped there was a map, at least. He'd requested one from his fixer but he didn't have the time to check to see if the transfer had gone through before they jumped down. "Can you transfer it to your own memory?"
Adri looked around. She had dropped the pen during the jump. Finding it, she stared at it for a moment. "Sorry Mel, I don't see any signals I can link up with."
"That's okay. Let's get moving before the security team catches up. We'll lose them in these tunnels."
As they trotted away, Mil took a moment to look her over. Her dress was in remarkably good shape but she was leaking fluids where the bullets had pierced her. A thick white goo that constituted a mechanical lubricant and a much thinner translucent mint green coolant dripped down the arm she had used to hold him. It looked like both of them were going to need some repairs once they were done here.
"Hey Adri. Are you still having fun?"
She laughed. "Yeah, Mil. I think I am."
"Good. Because once we're out of the tunnels, we still have work to do."
Adri smiled broadly. One way or another, she wasn't ever going back to that apartment.
Debts Owed and Debts Paid - Part Three
"Thanks, Sheriff. I think I owe you one." The pistolera cradled her cup of coffee and sipped gingerly. As the warmth rolled down into her belly she had to consciously resist the urge to close her eyes. There was no need to let the sheriff and his deputies know about her weakness.
"Well, it was my pleasure, miss. Trubor and his sister have been running up debts all around town. You saved me an awful lot of trouble bringing him in. All this rain we've been having has been making my knee irritable something fierce and I really wasn't looking forward to talking to that landlord of his. Refill?"
The sheriff was a man of considerable girth with a set of mutton chop sideburns that suffered the additional duty of making his face appear twice as wide as it really was. She noted that his uniform was immaculately pressed; his creases would have made her old commanding officer proud. As he poured fresh coffee into her cup, she glanced down at his boots to see herself looking back up from the reflection in the toe.
"I don't mean to pry, miss. But I couldn't help notice that revolver of yours. It's a fine example of the M1410 revolver. That's army issue, isn't it?"
"It sure is." She didn't bother correcting him on the model number. It was a common mistake and she didn't want to follow where that conversation would lead.
"Do you know the gamblers in town? I'm trying to find an albino that likes cards." The pistolera didn't even know that the question had been forming in her mind. She had just wanted to derail the conversation about her revolver and that's what came out.
"I... do... " The sheriff hesitated before fully dropping his weight into his chair. "You're talking about Henry Brinks. You don't have business with him, do you?"
"No. Just heard some stories and I was curious."
"Well, good. Henry's not the kind of man you want to get into business with. His grandfather owns the mines that'll provide ol' Trubor there with some honest work. Henry seems to think that his grandfather's money means he owns the town, too. Nothing but trouble, that one. Do us both a favor and steer clear of that one, will ya'?"
"Sure, sheriff. Will do." She studied the sheriff's face as she took a sip. His concern was genuine. And he might have even been a little concerned. He really did not want her path to intersect with the albino. "Well, I wouldn't want to accidentally bump into him. Are there any establishments in particular that I should avoid?"
"Everything south of the train station, really. But if you have to go down there, be especially careful to avoid a place called Spinning Irons. Henry and his friends call those walls home when they're in town."
Down the hill past the train station. That's where Emmie was headed when she got away. Was it coincidence?
Not that it mattered. The pistolera had ten pesos in hand for the capture of Trubor Lake. Her share wouldn't be quite enough for the storm lantern she wanted, but she could at least put down that deposit on the part for her arm.
She resolved to make a visit to the barber and call it a day. Her new homestead wasn't going to make itself ready for winter.
She cursed herself and her curiosity every single step of the way down to the station. She didn't need the money. She didn't owe the barber anything more than half the pesos in her pocket. Hell, she could just hand over the whole ten and be done with the thing once and for all. But she didn't. She really wanted to know where Emmie had gone. And, if she could find the woman, she would do her best to drag her to the jail where she belonged.
The buildings on the south side of the rails were, to the very last, considerably higher class than those on the northern side. The streets were in better condition, too. Clearly the monied folk of Mountain Home preferred to live a bit lower in the valley.
Spinning Irons turned out to be one of the most impressive establishments that the pistola had ever encountered. Three stories of detailed stonework, intricate wood work, and well maintained red and gold lacquer stood on a triangular plot of land in a busy intersection. Three sets of double doors stood open at the top of a dozen red wood steps.
As the pistolera watched from the far side of the street, a regular flow of well dressed and well heeled ladies and gentlemen flowed in and out. Neither Emmie nor the albino were evident, but then they wouldn't be. If she wanted to find either one, she'd have to go inside. She only hoped that her old duster would be fancy enough for her to buy a beer there.
As it turned out, she was briefly stopped at the door. What she couldn't see from the outside were the group of well dressed bouncers and toughs standing just inside. One of them mistook her for a child and was about to physically throw her right back out the door when he got a good look at her eyes. A tip-o-the-hat later, she was inside and looking around.
The first floor was almost entirely one big hall. Most of the floor was dominated by a fancy set of gambling tables; dice and cards mostly. In the back was a long bar staffed by three immaculately dressed bartenders with matching handlebar mustaches. The one on the left was mostly on his own. This early in the day, he was spending his time preparing glasses instead of serving patrons.
She had paid for an overpriced beer and was about to see what kind of information she might get out of him when she spotted Emmie. She had changed into a dress that was similar to what the cocktail girls were wearing under an expensive looking half-jacket.
The pistolera put her mostly full beer back on the bar and followed her. Emmie went up two flights of stairs before turning down a long hall of doors. Stopping in front of a door, Emmie reached into a pocket in her jacket and pulled out a key.
Once Emmie was inside, the pistolera moved out of her concealed position in the hall and approached the door. Leaning in, she listened. She couldn't make out the conversation, but there was clear talking and laughing going on. Whomever Emmie was in there with, it certainly wasn't some card cheat that she was trying to get her money back from.
She went back down to the bar to see if her beer was still there.
It wasn't, so she bought another. Before long she saw Emmie coming down the stairs, arm in arm with a pale man in a dark blue suit. They milled around the crowd before settling down at a table, the albino playing and Emmie fetching drinks for him.
The pistolera tipped back her bottle and headed out. There wasn't anything left she could do here. Emmie lake had made friends in high places. She was protected now.
On her way back to the barber's place she was passed by a wagon. In the bed of the wagon were two passengers slumped over a rail, chains from their wrists and ankles run through the rail to keep them from getting out on their own.
"Pistolera! I'll see you again next year, Pistolera! And if you see my sister, you can tell her that I'm going to see her first! You tell her, Pistolera!" Trubor continued shouting at her as the wagon went on down the road, but the sound of his rage was quickly lost in the crowd.
When she got to the barber's place, she didn't say anything to him or two the domino players. She stacked his money, all of it, on the counter and walked right back out. She'd lost a night's sleep and gained at least one new enemy. It was time to cut her losses and get back to work.
"Well, it was my pleasure, miss. Trubor and his sister have been running up debts all around town. You saved me an awful lot of trouble bringing him in. All this rain we've been having has been making my knee irritable something fierce and I really wasn't looking forward to talking to that landlord of his. Refill?"
The sheriff was a man of considerable girth with a set of mutton chop sideburns that suffered the additional duty of making his face appear twice as wide as it really was. She noted that his uniform was immaculately pressed; his creases would have made her old commanding officer proud. As he poured fresh coffee into her cup, she glanced down at his boots to see herself looking back up from the reflection in the toe.
"I don't mean to pry, miss. But I couldn't help notice that revolver of yours. It's a fine example of the M1410 revolver. That's army issue, isn't it?"
"It sure is." She didn't bother correcting him on the model number. It was a common mistake and she didn't want to follow where that conversation would lead.
"Do you know the gamblers in town? I'm trying to find an albino that likes cards." The pistolera didn't even know that the question had been forming in her mind. She had just wanted to derail the conversation about her revolver and that's what came out.
"I... do... " The sheriff hesitated before fully dropping his weight into his chair. "You're talking about Henry Brinks. You don't have business with him, do you?"
"No. Just heard some stories and I was curious."
"Well, good. Henry's not the kind of man you want to get into business with. His grandfather owns the mines that'll provide ol' Trubor there with some honest work. Henry seems to think that his grandfather's money means he owns the town, too. Nothing but trouble, that one. Do us both a favor and steer clear of that one, will ya'?"
"Sure, sheriff. Will do." She studied the sheriff's face as she took a sip. His concern was genuine. And he might have even been a little concerned. He really did not want her path to intersect with the albino. "Well, I wouldn't want to accidentally bump into him. Are there any establishments in particular that I should avoid?"
"Everything south of the train station, really. But if you have to go down there, be especially careful to avoid a place called Spinning Irons. Henry and his friends call those walls home when they're in town."
Down the hill past the train station. That's where Emmie was headed when she got away. Was it coincidence?
Not that it mattered. The pistolera had ten pesos in hand for the capture of Trubor Lake. Her share wouldn't be quite enough for the storm lantern she wanted, but she could at least put down that deposit on the part for her arm.
She resolved to make a visit to the barber and call it a day. Her new homestead wasn't going to make itself ready for winter.
She cursed herself and her curiosity every single step of the way down to the station. She didn't need the money. She didn't owe the barber anything more than half the pesos in her pocket. Hell, she could just hand over the whole ten and be done with the thing once and for all. But she didn't. She really wanted to know where Emmie had gone. And, if she could find the woman, she would do her best to drag her to the jail where she belonged.
The buildings on the south side of the rails were, to the very last, considerably higher class than those on the northern side. The streets were in better condition, too. Clearly the monied folk of Mountain Home preferred to live a bit lower in the valley.
Spinning Irons turned out to be one of the most impressive establishments that the pistola had ever encountered. Three stories of detailed stonework, intricate wood work, and well maintained red and gold lacquer stood on a triangular plot of land in a busy intersection. Three sets of double doors stood open at the top of a dozen red wood steps.
As the pistolera watched from the far side of the street, a regular flow of well dressed and well heeled ladies and gentlemen flowed in and out. Neither Emmie nor the albino were evident, but then they wouldn't be. If she wanted to find either one, she'd have to go inside. She only hoped that her old duster would be fancy enough for her to buy a beer there.
As it turned out, she was briefly stopped at the door. What she couldn't see from the outside were the group of well dressed bouncers and toughs standing just inside. One of them mistook her for a child and was about to physically throw her right back out the door when he got a good look at her eyes. A tip-o-the-hat later, she was inside and looking around.
The first floor was almost entirely one big hall. Most of the floor was dominated by a fancy set of gambling tables; dice and cards mostly. In the back was a long bar staffed by three immaculately dressed bartenders with matching handlebar mustaches. The one on the left was mostly on his own. This early in the day, he was spending his time preparing glasses instead of serving patrons.
She had paid for an overpriced beer and was about to see what kind of information she might get out of him when she spotted Emmie. She had changed into a dress that was similar to what the cocktail girls were wearing under an expensive looking half-jacket.
The pistolera put her mostly full beer back on the bar and followed her. Emmie went up two flights of stairs before turning down a long hall of doors. Stopping in front of a door, Emmie reached into a pocket in her jacket and pulled out a key.
Once Emmie was inside, the pistolera moved out of her concealed position in the hall and approached the door. Leaning in, she listened. She couldn't make out the conversation, but there was clear talking and laughing going on. Whomever Emmie was in there with, it certainly wasn't some card cheat that she was trying to get her money back from.
She went back down to the bar to see if her beer was still there.
It wasn't, so she bought another. Before long she saw Emmie coming down the stairs, arm in arm with a pale man in a dark blue suit. They milled around the crowd before settling down at a table, the albino playing and Emmie fetching drinks for him.
The pistolera tipped back her bottle and headed out. There wasn't anything left she could do here. Emmie lake had made friends in high places. She was protected now.
On her way back to the barber's place she was passed by a wagon. In the bed of the wagon were two passengers slumped over a rail, chains from their wrists and ankles run through the rail to keep them from getting out on their own.
"Pistolera! I'll see you again next year, Pistolera! And if you see my sister, you can tell her that I'm going to see her first! You tell her, Pistolera!" Trubor continued shouting at her as the wagon went on down the road, but the sound of his rage was quickly lost in the crowd.
When she got to the barber's place, she didn't say anything to him or two the domino players. She stacked his money, all of it, on the counter and walked right back out. She'd lost a night's sleep and gained at least one new enemy. It was time to cut her losses and get back to work.
Debts Owed and Debts Paid - Part Two
"I'm here to collect a debt. Specifically, the debt on these notes." The pistolera brandished the fistful of papers in Emmie Lake's face.
The elder lake sibling was real tall. Bound up and squatting on her knees she was still looking the pistolera eye to eye. Squinting, she diverted her gaze over to the notes and tried to read them through the thick plaster that was her hangover.
"That's my brother's signature." Emmie nodded her head toward the still snoring lump of her brother and her greasy unkempt hair followed the movement in waves. "So you ain't got nothing on me, sister."
The pistolera stepped back and flipped through the notes again. "That's true. This one here does have your bother's signature on it. But then this one... " She pulled a single note out of the stack and held it up to her face. "This one for a haircut and color has your signature. So's this one... and this one... and this one. Here's five notes in your name for watch repair. Then here's two more for pocket watches purchased on credit. All in all, Emmie, the notes with your name on it total almost forty pesos and go back nearly two years. "
"And now I'm here to collect. From you. And your brother."
"Well, we ain't got it, sugar." Emmie slumped back on her haunches and leaned against the dirty wall before barking a wet laugh.
"I figured as much." The pistolera stuffed the notes back into her jacket pocket. "Once your bother comes to we'll take a little walk down to the jail and chat it out with the sheriff. I've heard debtor's prison in Mountain Home can be pretty rough."
"Now hold on right there one rotten minute, dumpling!" Emmie got back up to a kneeling position fast enough to pull the rope between her wrists and ankles tight, snapping her shoulders back. It looked painful. "You can't do that. They'll put me in a mining gang. Look at me! I'm not made for work like that!"
The pistolera could see what she meant. As tall as she was, Emmie would likely have to spend a lot of time ducking in a mine shaft, when she could stand up at all. She also doubted that those thin soft hands of hers had ever held a knitting needle, much less a pick axe.
"Look... baby doll... Just let me go. You bring my brother down to the jail with those notes in your hand and they'll pay you for 'em just as well if you brought us both, yeah? Maybe better even!"
Emmie had a point. Whichever mine was paying for laborers usually bought out debts at a fraction of their value. And when the debtor in question was lame or sickly that fraction got a little smaller. Now Emmie might not be an ideal miner but her brother certainly was. Where she was tall and gangly, he was built like a pile of river stones. He was short, stocky, and heavily muscled. A perfect miner.
The pistolera walked over to Trubor Lake's snoring form, planted a boot on his shoulder, and spun him over, landing him on his back.
Emmie started shimmying sideways to put a little room between herself and her now wincing brother. "Ah, baby doll, you didn't have to wake him up, did you? I mean, just cut me free and I'll be on my way, okay sweetness?"
"Hey, Trubor. Trubor Lake. Wake up. I'm getting tired of waiting on you." The pistolera planted a few kicks on Trubor's shoulder. Not hard enough to break or bruise him, but not exactly gentle kicks either.
When his eyes finally came open, they only did so begrudgingly. When his mouth opened, it only let out a loan moan and mumble.
The pistolera squatted down next to him and spoke firmly into his ear. "Trubor, your sister says that you're willing to take on her debts. You good with that?"
"Who the fuck are you?" Trubor's voice made him sound like he had spent the night eating dry sand and gargling raw eggs. She could barely hear him. That wouldn't do at all.
She stood up and strode over to the wash basin. Empty. She looked around and spied the bottles of bourbon the two had walked in with the night before. That'll do. As she was pouring it over his face, allowing just a little to get into his mouth, she caught him up on the situation.
"There ain't no need for any of this, okay? Take a look under my bed, there's a loose floor board. There's a tin box in there with, shit, must be a hundred pesos in it now. Well, don't just stare at me like that, go look you crazy bitch!"
Instead of going over to the corner where the two beds were at, the pistolera went over to their little table instead and retrieved a little tin box off of it. "This one?"
"Yeah! Shit, lady, if you found it already then why the fuck are we here? Take the debt or rob us or whatever the hell you're doing and let us be, for fuck's sake!"
Squatting in front of Trubor, the pistolera opened the box and poured out the handful of centavo pieces inside. "Eighty centavos isn't going to even start to cover it, Trubor. You got anything else or are we going to get on to the sheriff's office? I've been up all night watching you two idiots sleep, I need coffee and a bath just from being in here and it's making me kind of edgy. You should really keep some coffee on hand, you know?"
"Jesus, Emmie! What the hell did you do with all our money! A hundred fucking pesos, Emmie! It was in there just last fucking week!"
"I got bored and went to play some cards, brother of mine. Harmless fun, harmless fun. I would have come back with more than I took if that albino cheat hadn't rooked me out of all my winnings!"
The siblings were shouting at each other louder and louder and the pistolera was getting tired of it. A fraction of the debt, split between herself and the barber was better than nothing at all. She pulled her knife from her boot and cut a single knot between Trubor's wrists and ankles. It wouldn't free him, but it would allow him to stand up and walk with a shortened stride.
"Okay, get up. It's time to go. You too, Emmie." She made the same cut for the sister. "Now, don't you two be stupid. A year or two in the mine won't kill you. But I will. Don't give me a reason."
"Wait, sugar doll, just wait now." Emmie struggled to her feet. "What if I said that I could get that debt covered before sunrise tomorrow? Wouldn't that be better than the jail payment? What are they gonna give you? One peso in ten? You let me go now and I'll get you the fifty we owe plus another fifty and you don't even have to do anything!"
"So, I just let you go and tomorrow morning you'll grease my palm with a hundred pesos? Gee that's tempting. I'm sure you wouldn't just skip town and disappear forever." The pistolera drew her revolver and leveled it at Emmie. "Just shut up and walk. I really need a cup of coffee and you aren't helping my mood one bit."
The walk from the flop house to the jail was about ten blocks. A casual stroll most days, but considerably longer this day since Emmie just utterly refused to shut the hell up. Something about an albino gambler and a treasure trove. The pistolera didn't bother listening to her but kept on pushing them towards the jail house.
They were within sight of the goal when all hell broke loose. By this time in the morning the streets had become crowded with carriages moving folks from place to place and the passengers of the morning inbound train moving up the hill from the station.
At the same time the trio was walking by a little cafe, a wagon carrying lumber passed on the other side. The pistolera turned to gaze at the tray of coffee a waiter was delivering to a table at the window when Emmie screamed "I'll get the money!!", pulled free from her wrist bindings, and yanked herself up onto the lumber wagon.
By the time the pistolera pulled herself away from the window, one of her debtors was already ten yards away and fast disappearing into the crowd.
"Dammit!" She kicked out Trubor's legs, sending him into the mud of the street, and leveled her gun where Emmie used to be. The crowd screamed and scattered. She cursed again, holstered her gun, and pulled Trubor up to his knees.
"Well. I guess now we find out if the law will let me collect all these notes from just you. Come on. Dammit all."
The elder lake sibling was real tall. Bound up and squatting on her knees she was still looking the pistolera eye to eye. Squinting, she diverted her gaze over to the notes and tried to read them through the thick plaster that was her hangover.
"That's my brother's signature." Emmie nodded her head toward the still snoring lump of her brother and her greasy unkempt hair followed the movement in waves. "So you ain't got nothing on me, sister."
The pistolera stepped back and flipped through the notes again. "That's true. This one here does have your bother's signature on it. But then this one... " She pulled a single note out of the stack and held it up to her face. "This one for a haircut and color has your signature. So's this one... and this one... and this one. Here's five notes in your name for watch repair. Then here's two more for pocket watches purchased on credit. All in all, Emmie, the notes with your name on it total almost forty pesos and go back nearly two years. "
"And now I'm here to collect. From you. And your brother."
"Well, we ain't got it, sugar." Emmie slumped back on her haunches and leaned against the dirty wall before barking a wet laugh.
"I figured as much." The pistolera stuffed the notes back into her jacket pocket. "Once your bother comes to we'll take a little walk down to the jail and chat it out with the sheriff. I've heard debtor's prison in Mountain Home can be pretty rough."
"Now hold on right there one rotten minute, dumpling!" Emmie got back up to a kneeling position fast enough to pull the rope between her wrists and ankles tight, snapping her shoulders back. It looked painful. "You can't do that. They'll put me in a mining gang. Look at me! I'm not made for work like that!"
The pistolera could see what she meant. As tall as she was, Emmie would likely have to spend a lot of time ducking in a mine shaft, when she could stand up at all. She also doubted that those thin soft hands of hers had ever held a knitting needle, much less a pick axe.
"Look... baby doll... Just let me go. You bring my brother down to the jail with those notes in your hand and they'll pay you for 'em just as well if you brought us both, yeah? Maybe better even!"
Emmie had a point. Whichever mine was paying for laborers usually bought out debts at a fraction of their value. And when the debtor in question was lame or sickly that fraction got a little smaller. Now Emmie might not be an ideal miner but her brother certainly was. Where she was tall and gangly, he was built like a pile of river stones. He was short, stocky, and heavily muscled. A perfect miner.
The pistolera walked over to Trubor Lake's snoring form, planted a boot on his shoulder, and spun him over, landing him on his back.
Emmie started shimmying sideways to put a little room between herself and her now wincing brother. "Ah, baby doll, you didn't have to wake him up, did you? I mean, just cut me free and I'll be on my way, okay sweetness?"
"Hey, Trubor. Trubor Lake. Wake up. I'm getting tired of waiting on you." The pistolera planted a few kicks on Trubor's shoulder. Not hard enough to break or bruise him, but not exactly gentle kicks either.
When his eyes finally came open, they only did so begrudgingly. When his mouth opened, it only let out a loan moan and mumble.
The pistolera squatted down next to him and spoke firmly into his ear. "Trubor, your sister says that you're willing to take on her debts. You good with that?"
"Who the fuck are you?" Trubor's voice made him sound like he had spent the night eating dry sand and gargling raw eggs. She could barely hear him. That wouldn't do at all.
She stood up and strode over to the wash basin. Empty. She looked around and spied the bottles of bourbon the two had walked in with the night before. That'll do. As she was pouring it over his face, allowing just a little to get into his mouth, she caught him up on the situation.
"There ain't no need for any of this, okay? Take a look under my bed, there's a loose floor board. There's a tin box in there with, shit, must be a hundred pesos in it now. Well, don't just stare at me like that, go look you crazy bitch!"
Instead of going over to the corner where the two beds were at, the pistolera went over to their little table instead and retrieved a little tin box off of it. "This one?"
"Yeah! Shit, lady, if you found it already then why the fuck are we here? Take the debt or rob us or whatever the hell you're doing and let us be, for fuck's sake!"
Squatting in front of Trubor, the pistolera opened the box and poured out the handful of centavo pieces inside. "Eighty centavos isn't going to even start to cover it, Trubor. You got anything else or are we going to get on to the sheriff's office? I've been up all night watching you two idiots sleep, I need coffee and a bath just from being in here and it's making me kind of edgy. You should really keep some coffee on hand, you know?"
"Jesus, Emmie! What the hell did you do with all our money! A hundred fucking pesos, Emmie! It was in there just last fucking week!"
"I got bored and went to play some cards, brother of mine. Harmless fun, harmless fun. I would have come back with more than I took if that albino cheat hadn't rooked me out of all my winnings!"
The siblings were shouting at each other louder and louder and the pistolera was getting tired of it. A fraction of the debt, split between herself and the barber was better than nothing at all. She pulled her knife from her boot and cut a single knot between Trubor's wrists and ankles. It wouldn't free him, but it would allow him to stand up and walk with a shortened stride.
"Okay, get up. It's time to go. You too, Emmie." She made the same cut for the sister. "Now, don't you two be stupid. A year or two in the mine won't kill you. But I will. Don't give me a reason."
"Wait, sugar doll, just wait now." Emmie struggled to her feet. "What if I said that I could get that debt covered before sunrise tomorrow? Wouldn't that be better than the jail payment? What are they gonna give you? One peso in ten? You let me go now and I'll get you the fifty we owe plus another fifty and you don't even have to do anything!"
"So, I just let you go and tomorrow morning you'll grease my palm with a hundred pesos? Gee that's tempting. I'm sure you wouldn't just skip town and disappear forever." The pistolera drew her revolver and leveled it at Emmie. "Just shut up and walk. I really need a cup of coffee and you aren't helping my mood one bit."
The walk from the flop house to the jail was about ten blocks. A casual stroll most days, but considerably longer this day since Emmie just utterly refused to shut the hell up. Something about an albino gambler and a treasure trove. The pistolera didn't bother listening to her but kept on pushing them towards the jail house.
They were within sight of the goal when all hell broke loose. By this time in the morning the streets had become crowded with carriages moving folks from place to place and the passengers of the morning inbound train moving up the hill from the station.
At the same time the trio was walking by a little cafe, a wagon carrying lumber passed on the other side. The pistolera turned to gaze at the tray of coffee a waiter was delivering to a table at the window when Emmie screamed "I'll get the money!!", pulled free from her wrist bindings, and yanked herself up onto the lumber wagon.
By the time the pistolera pulled herself away from the window, one of her debtors was already ten yards away and fast disappearing into the crowd.
"Dammit!" She kicked out Trubor's legs, sending him into the mud of the street, and leveled her gun where Emmie used to be. The crowd screamed and scattered. She cursed again, holstered her gun, and pulled Trubor up to his knees.
"Well. I guess now we find out if the law will let me collect all these notes from just you. Come on. Dammit all."
Debts Owed and Debts Paid - Part One
"I'm looking for the watchmaker."
The pistolera glanced around at the faces gathered in the little shop. In the far right corner was a lone barber's chair occupied by a rotund little man having his sideburns shaped by an aging barber. Opposite that in the far left corner was a cluttered work desk covered in fine tools and pocket watches in various states of repair. Up front was a long counter, a small scale, and a chalkboard listing the going rates for minerals such as silver, tin, and copper. In the middle of all of it, crowded around a small table were a trio of men playing dominoes.
"That's me. I'll be with ya as soon as I'm done with Eddie's cut here." The barber never looked up from his work but did spare a hand long enough to give a waving invitation for her to have a seat at the table.
"He's the barber and the watchmaker?" The pistolera shook off her hat and coat and hung them by the door before crossing behind the counter to join the domino players. None of the players appeared armed so she took her revolver off her belt, still in its holster, and laid it on the table. No need to be rude, she figured.
"And he's the silver buyer and he can pull a tooth if you're in need. Beer?" The pistolera nodded so, and the youngest of the players with the greatest of beards traded her a bottle of beer for a ten centavo piece.
Eddie's cut lasted long enough for the pistolera to enjoy three rounds of dominoes with the trio. Once he'd paid for the work, said his goodbyes, bought a beer for the road, reflected on local politics, finished his beer, and commented on the war he was on his way and the old barber turned his attention to the pistolera.
"Okay, miss. What can I do for you? Buying a watch or needing one fixed up? If the case and chain are tarnished I can take care of that for you, too."
"No watch. Just this." The pistolera held up her left hand bearing one finger less than her right and clad from fingertip to elbow in deerskin. She flexed her hand twice and let the deep mechanical squeaking and grinding speak for itself. "Seems I could use an adjustment."
An hour later the pistolera was sitting next to the workbench, her glove unlaced and hung over the back of her chair, her elbow resting on the bench and most of her forearm and hand disassembled and carefully arranged by assembly order on an oiled cloth.
"Well, it looks like the main problem is your number six extensor pin. I can straighten it, but it should really be replaced. If I order the pin today from Flatrock we'd probably see it here by the end of next month. Where you staying at? I'll send someone over to let you know when it comes in. Sam, get me the Flatrock Brassworks catalogue will ya'?"
"I'm not staying in town. I have a claim a few miles north on Bear Mountain. I'm back in town once a month or so for supplies. I'll check in then. In the meantime, I could use another beer."
The barber compared her pin to a few sketches in the catalogue and made a note when he found a listing that was satisfactory. That done, he used a small hammer to gently straighten the pin and then started the process of reassembling the arm and hand. Once he was done the pistolera made a few test flexes, squeek free.
"Nice work. What do I owe you?"
"Well, let's see. It'll be fifteen centavo for the clean and tune, and I'll need five peso fifty as a deposit on the new pin."
The pistolera dug a twenty five centavo piece out of her pocket. "That's for the work and the second beer. The pin will have to wait until my claim shows a little color."
"Put it on credit, if you like. You seem like the trustworthy type."
"Thanks, but I'd rather not become a debtor. I'll be back once I make a strike." She finished lacing up her glove, put her revolver back on her hip, and moved towards her coat and hat. "If you're prices are good I'll even come back here to sell."
"Breaking rock is gonna be rough on that pin, miss. If it breaks you're gonna have a bad day of it. And it just so happens that I know a way someone like you could make twenty five pesos this afternoon."
The pistolera stopped at the door and chewed her lip for a minute. She was sure she wasn't going to like the work but twenty five pesos would get her arm fixed and replace her busted oil lamp. She didn't really need it, but it sure as hell would make things easier on her now that the days were getting shorter.
"What kind of work are we talking about?" She didn't take her hand off the door or turn around.
"Debt collection. There's a brother and sister here in town owe me over fifty pesos from last year and I'm pretty damned sure they don't intend on paying. If you'd collect in my name I'll split it with you."
She ground her teeth and thought about that lamp.
"Is it on paper? The debt? You have notes?"
"Yup. right here. All signed by either Trubor or Emmie Lake."
The pistolera turned the handle to open the door. She didn't need this crap. She came to the mountains to stake a claim, not to be some kind of debt enforcer. She opened her mouth to tell the barber...
"Give 'em to me. I'll be back in an hour."
By the time she realized that she had committed herself, she was back out the door with the notes in her hand. Damn it all.
"I'm looking for the Lake siblings. Are they here?"
"Why the fuck are you asking me?" A gob of chicken laden spittle flew off the fat man's mouth and onto the ledger he was scribbling in with his free hand. The pistolera could smell the grease on him even over the stench of mold and rot that was coming from the common room of his tenement building.
"You're the landlord of this rat nest, aren't you? The foreman at the lumber mill said that Trubor Lake and his sister Emmie keep a room here."
"Well they're not here. If Trubor isn't at that mill then he's probably out drinking. Probably at the same hall his sister dances at." The fat man apparently thought the idea of a brother visiting the hall were his sister dances worth laughing at. Or at least worth making a choking grunt at. It was difficult to tell for sure if the noise he made was a laugh or not.
"Trubor was fired from the mill today and Emmie from the dance hall two days ago. They haven't been to either place today. Now, if they're not in their room where would they be at?" The pistolera leaned in and raised the brim of her duster.
The landlord looked down from his stool and caught her gaze. The blood ran from his flabby cheeks and he tried to look away from her, look at anything else, but failed. He was certain she'd kill him the moment he looked away. He could feel it.
"I haven't seen either one today, ma'am." He tried to gulp down the saliva that was pooling under his tongue but only succeeded in choking and coughing instead.
"Give me your master key."
"I don't have... " The well-worn lie died in his mouth when he caught sight of his own reflection in her eyes. Years later he'd swear he saw the very specter of death coming for him in those eyes.
In the end he didn't even remember giving her the key. But the thong he kept it on was snapped clean off and his hand bled from where it had cut him.
That evening, after the sun had set behind the mountains, two shadowy figures moved through the halls of the tenement and up all four flights of stairs to the top floor. They would have been silent if not for their constant shushing and giggling at each other. Occasionally there'd be a little clinking noise from the bottles of bourbon they were carrying.
At a door with the name "Lake" crudely carved into it the two stopped and looked around and examined the door knob. Satisfied that no one was observing them and that their room remained undisturbed, the taller of the two pulled a heavy iron key from her breast pocket and unlocked the door.
Once they were both inside and the door closed behind them, the pistolera made her move. A mule kick to the legs of the taller one followed by a sap to the jaw of the smaller and it was all over.
Finding and subduing the Lake siblings hadn't been difficult at all. But it appeared that they were near broke. Or possibly completely broke now that they'd bought all that bourbon. The pistolera bound their arms and ankles then found a comfortable chair to wait for them to wake up.
By the sound of their snoring she was afraid that she might be in for a long wait.
The pistolera glanced around at the faces gathered in the little shop. In the far right corner was a lone barber's chair occupied by a rotund little man having his sideburns shaped by an aging barber. Opposite that in the far left corner was a cluttered work desk covered in fine tools and pocket watches in various states of repair. Up front was a long counter, a small scale, and a chalkboard listing the going rates for minerals such as silver, tin, and copper. In the middle of all of it, crowded around a small table were a trio of men playing dominoes.
"That's me. I'll be with ya as soon as I'm done with Eddie's cut here." The barber never looked up from his work but did spare a hand long enough to give a waving invitation for her to have a seat at the table.
"He's the barber and the watchmaker?" The pistolera shook off her hat and coat and hung them by the door before crossing behind the counter to join the domino players. None of the players appeared armed so she took her revolver off her belt, still in its holster, and laid it on the table. No need to be rude, she figured.
"And he's the silver buyer and he can pull a tooth if you're in need. Beer?" The pistolera nodded so, and the youngest of the players with the greatest of beards traded her a bottle of beer for a ten centavo piece.
Eddie's cut lasted long enough for the pistolera to enjoy three rounds of dominoes with the trio. Once he'd paid for the work, said his goodbyes, bought a beer for the road, reflected on local politics, finished his beer, and commented on the war he was on his way and the old barber turned his attention to the pistolera.
"Okay, miss. What can I do for you? Buying a watch or needing one fixed up? If the case and chain are tarnished I can take care of that for you, too."
"No watch. Just this." The pistolera held up her left hand bearing one finger less than her right and clad from fingertip to elbow in deerskin. She flexed her hand twice and let the deep mechanical squeaking and grinding speak for itself. "Seems I could use an adjustment."
An hour later the pistolera was sitting next to the workbench, her glove unlaced and hung over the back of her chair, her elbow resting on the bench and most of her forearm and hand disassembled and carefully arranged by assembly order on an oiled cloth.
"Well, it looks like the main problem is your number six extensor pin. I can straighten it, but it should really be replaced. If I order the pin today from Flatrock we'd probably see it here by the end of next month. Where you staying at? I'll send someone over to let you know when it comes in. Sam, get me the Flatrock Brassworks catalogue will ya'?"
"I'm not staying in town. I have a claim a few miles north on Bear Mountain. I'm back in town once a month or so for supplies. I'll check in then. In the meantime, I could use another beer."
The barber compared her pin to a few sketches in the catalogue and made a note when he found a listing that was satisfactory. That done, he used a small hammer to gently straighten the pin and then started the process of reassembling the arm and hand. Once he was done the pistolera made a few test flexes, squeek free.
"Nice work. What do I owe you?"
"Well, let's see. It'll be fifteen centavo for the clean and tune, and I'll need five peso fifty as a deposit on the new pin."
The pistolera dug a twenty five centavo piece out of her pocket. "That's for the work and the second beer. The pin will have to wait until my claim shows a little color."
"Put it on credit, if you like. You seem like the trustworthy type."
"Thanks, but I'd rather not become a debtor. I'll be back once I make a strike." She finished lacing up her glove, put her revolver back on her hip, and moved towards her coat and hat. "If you're prices are good I'll even come back here to sell."
"Breaking rock is gonna be rough on that pin, miss. If it breaks you're gonna have a bad day of it. And it just so happens that I know a way someone like you could make twenty five pesos this afternoon."
The pistolera stopped at the door and chewed her lip for a minute. She was sure she wasn't going to like the work but twenty five pesos would get her arm fixed and replace her busted oil lamp. She didn't really need it, but it sure as hell would make things easier on her now that the days were getting shorter.
"What kind of work are we talking about?" She didn't take her hand off the door or turn around.
"Debt collection. There's a brother and sister here in town owe me over fifty pesos from last year and I'm pretty damned sure they don't intend on paying. If you'd collect in my name I'll split it with you."
She ground her teeth and thought about that lamp.
"Is it on paper? The debt? You have notes?"
"Yup. right here. All signed by either Trubor or Emmie Lake."
The pistolera turned the handle to open the door. She didn't need this crap. She came to the mountains to stake a claim, not to be some kind of debt enforcer. She opened her mouth to tell the barber...
"Give 'em to me. I'll be back in an hour."
By the time she realized that she had committed herself, she was back out the door with the notes in her hand. Damn it all.
"I'm looking for the Lake siblings. Are they here?"
"Why the fuck are you asking me?" A gob of chicken laden spittle flew off the fat man's mouth and onto the ledger he was scribbling in with his free hand. The pistolera could smell the grease on him even over the stench of mold and rot that was coming from the common room of his tenement building.
"You're the landlord of this rat nest, aren't you? The foreman at the lumber mill said that Trubor Lake and his sister Emmie keep a room here."
"Well they're not here. If Trubor isn't at that mill then he's probably out drinking. Probably at the same hall his sister dances at." The fat man apparently thought the idea of a brother visiting the hall were his sister dances worth laughing at. Or at least worth making a choking grunt at. It was difficult to tell for sure if the noise he made was a laugh or not.
"Trubor was fired from the mill today and Emmie from the dance hall two days ago. They haven't been to either place today. Now, if they're not in their room where would they be at?" The pistolera leaned in and raised the brim of her duster.
The landlord looked down from his stool and caught her gaze. The blood ran from his flabby cheeks and he tried to look away from her, look at anything else, but failed. He was certain she'd kill him the moment he looked away. He could feel it.
"I haven't seen either one today, ma'am." He tried to gulp down the saliva that was pooling under his tongue but only succeeded in choking and coughing instead.
"Give me your master key."
"I don't have... " The well-worn lie died in his mouth when he caught sight of his own reflection in her eyes. Years later he'd swear he saw the very specter of death coming for him in those eyes.
In the end he didn't even remember giving her the key. But the thong he kept it on was snapped clean off and his hand bled from where it had cut him.
That evening, after the sun had set behind the mountains, two shadowy figures moved through the halls of the tenement and up all four flights of stairs to the top floor. They would have been silent if not for their constant shushing and giggling at each other. Occasionally there'd be a little clinking noise from the bottles of bourbon they were carrying.
At a door with the name "Lake" crudely carved into it the two stopped and looked around and examined the door knob. Satisfied that no one was observing them and that their room remained undisturbed, the taller of the two pulled a heavy iron key from her breast pocket and unlocked the door.
Once they were both inside and the door closed behind them, the pistolera made her move. A mule kick to the legs of the taller one followed by a sap to the jaw of the smaller and it was all over.
Finding and subduing the Lake siblings hadn't been difficult at all. But it appeared that they were near broke. Or possibly completely broke now that they'd bought all that bourbon. The pistolera bound their arms and ankles then found a comfortable chair to wait for them to wake up.
By the sound of their snoring she was afraid that she might be in for a long wait.
Summertide Stowaways
Didi was up before dawn. She had done all her preflight checks the night before and was eager to get sailing first thing. Resupply at the docks of Five Spire had taken her a day longer than she'd anticipated and, although she didn't technically have any schedule or deadline to meet, she felt the invisible pressure of being behind.
The sun was just rising over the eastern plains when she had the furnace hot enough to steam. Briefly, she radio'd the dockmaster her intent to depart and request to decouple. The sound of the cables falling away and the mumbling return radio call from the dockmaster's assistant came simultaneously. With one hand Didi poured a cup of tea and with the other gently pressed forward on the lever which rerouted steam from exhaust into the drive shaft.
Come evening time Didi's ship, the Summertide, had crossed a third of the way across the plains and the distant mountains had come into view. With the weather being so calm, Didi was kicked back in a hammock next to the tiller. She had a new novel in one hand and a fresh cup of tea in the other. At the same time, her pet mongoose Dodug was busy scurrying her way from one side of the cockpit to the other. The little red rodent was doing what it liked to do best: stuffing every single loose nut and bolt it could find into its nest. Whenever Didi had a hard time finding a particular screw or flange for a repair, she'd go raiding Dodug's hidey-hole behind the instrument panel. The whole thing would be cute, and even helpful, if Dodug didn't have the habit of taking things apart wherever she could.
On Dodug's third trip this evening, she got tangled up in her treasure and tripped over it. Didi looked up from her book "Be careful there, you little monster. The last thing you need is an itty-bitty mongoose concussion."
Didi watched Dodug switch tack and start shuffling backwards, dragging the long fine chain behind her. Up the instrument panel and then butt-first into the hole where the original barometer used to be.
"I'm going to be mad with you if you hurt yourself, Dodug!" Didi went back to her book. Then she immediately put it back down to roll over and light her lamp as the sunset was loosing its capacity to let her read.
As Dodug scurried back across the floor to start her treasure search again, Didi suddenly dropped her book onto her stomach. "That wasn't a nut or bolt, was it, Dodug? What did you find?" Didi rolled out of the hammock and went to peer into the hole in the instrument panel. Too dark to see anything, she just reached in and started feeling around, quickly finding what she was looking for. It was a long gold chain. Finely crafted. A gold pendant hanging from it in the shape of a hawk.
Down the narrow stair and behind the cramped galley was the cramped stowage compartment of the Summertide. Didi held her lantern high and low, trying to find any clue about where Dodug might have found that necklace.
The chop and thrum from the engine made it impossible to hear even her own footsteps and Didi wasn't expecting anything louder than the sound of Dodug trying to claw her way into a crate or barrel. Which is why she screamed when she turned a corner and found herself nose to nose with a pair of wide eyed faces.
Didi stared at the two of them. She'd never had stowaways before and she wasn't exactly sure what to do about it. They were thin, pale, and dressed in old layered street clothes to keep out the cold. She was pretty sure they were both teens, one an older boy and the other a younger girl, but they were so dirty that she could have been mistaken on all counts.
"Is this yours?" Didi held out the locket at arms length and let the lantern light shine on it. For a moment Didi thought that the two might not move or react at all. Maybe they weren't real? Or just ghosts? But then the girl nudged the boy forward, breaking the illusion.
"Yeah, it's hers. We're not going back to Five Spires. We won't let you take us back."
"Hrm... well... hrm..." Didi chewed her lip. "Well, you can't stay down here. It's going to get too cold. Let's have some dinner and we'll talk about it, yeah?"
Didi's initial assumptions were correct. They were Ji and Ae, brother and sister orphans escaped from the Five Spire Imperial Home for the Unwanted, a combination asylum and orphanage on the northern edge of the city. Ji had been rented out as a laborer on the docks and Ae as a baker's assistant. When Didi had docked a few days back, Ji formulated a plan get get himself and Ae into the Summertide's underbelly cargo hatch.
"Well, I'll tell you what..." Didi paused long enough to take a bit from a ginger cookie and top off Ae's tea. "I'll give you two choices. Either I can drop you off at the first village we find in the morning or you can crew with me for a little while. Since Ae was a baker's assistant, she can keep the galley clean and keep our meals." Ae smiled at Didi and took another cookie. "And Ji can keep the boiler charged and help with maintenance."
Ji nodded and made eye contact with Ae for confirmation. "Are you travelling away from Five Spires?"
"Yes."
"How far?"
"Very far."
"Then we'd like to be your crew, Didi."
"Captain Didi."
"Yes, captain." Ji's smirk wasn't completely condescending; there was a hint of true humor there, so Didi took it as good enough.
"Ae can take the folding bunk here in the galley. Ji, we'll get you some spare blankets from cargo and you can sleep on the floor. But first I want you two to draw some hot water and wash up. You smell. I'll get you a towel."
Ae was the first one to spot the ship break through the clouds behind them.
The day had gone smoother than Didi imagined it would. Ae had her tea ready for her first thing in the morning, Didi didn't even have to ask. Ji immediately proved himself to be a hard and resourceful worker. He moved all the coal they'd need from stowage into the cockpit before lunch and then spent the time before dinner fishing Dodug's treasure bits out of his nest and finding the places where they belonged. Well, where most of them belonged anyway.
Didi was just sinking into her hammock for an early afternoon read when Ae came into the cockpit. "Captain Didi? Um... there's something behind us."
"Hrm? We are pretty close to the mountains now. I wouldn't be surprised if some cormorant flock was trailing us for fun."
"I don't think it's a cormorant, captain. It looks like a ship. The sun's behind it so I can't see the colors but it looks... official."
In a less than graceful move, Didi tumbled out of her bunk and grabbed her spyglass. Out on deck she unfolded it and looked. "Shit. Shit shit."
"You're still not going to let them take us, right captain? We have a deal, right?" Ji was sticking his greasy and dusty face out of the cockpit's lardboard window.
"That's an imperial interceptor. I doubt they're after a pair of escaped orphans. Which means they're after me."
The siblings shared a look. "Why would they be after you, Didi?"
"Politics. My father isn't very popular in all corners of the empire and this wouldn't be the first time someone thought they could use me against him. Anyway, it's time to get to work. I need both of you at the boiler and shoveling. We're going to press on into the mountains. Those interceptors are fantastic at straight line sailing but terrible with crosswinds and tight maneuvers."
For the next two hours the orphans shoveled, Didi piloted, and Dodug helped herself to some crackers in a cupboard that Ae neglected to make mongoose-proof after lunch. Buy the time the Summertide had made it into the mountains, the interceptor had almost completely closed the distance between them. Even at full steam on a ship as light as this, they didn't have any hope of out-distancing the three-engine'd imperial ship.
Didi dove hard into the clouds that hung at the mountains' peaks. "Ae, close that hatch and start venting steam to the exhaust. Ji, go down to stowage. I want you to open the cargo doors and release the streamers. They'll help us shed speed before we get too close to the mountains. Hurry."
Below the clouds the mountains were chilly, but green and rolling in summer grasses. The Summertide groaned as the colorful canvas streamer snapped and caught the wind, dragging her speed down to a more manageable rate.
"Ae, take the tiller for a minute, I need to look for something." Didi stepped out onto the foredeck and glanced up at their cloud cover. A thin mist of rain made her squint. No sign of the interceptor yet. They may have lost them already. No need to take chances though, so she opened her spy glass and started scoping out the peaks. In a minute she found what she was looking for. Less than half a kilometer away was a craggy cliff face.
With her new crew watching intently, Didi gently swung her ship in close to the cliff face and gently lowered them down until they were just above a small mountain stream that ran below.
"We aren't seriously staying here, are we?" Ji stared at Didi.
"Well, not only can that interceptor not turn very well, it also has a hard time slowing down. So, with the cloud cover above us, the cliff on our starboard, and that hill on our lardboard they'd have to fly right above us to find us. Even then, if they spotted us they'd fly right by and give us enough time to find a new hiding spot. In another hour the sun will be down and they'll have to abandon the chase or risk running into a mountain they can't see. I'd say we're in a very good position for now."
"So, I need you to go down and reel in the streamers. Ae, make some tea please. If I'm right we'll be enjoying a quiet night right here and I could really use a cup."
Once the two were below decks with their duties, Didi turned on the wireless and listened. If there was more than one ship nearby she'd want to know about it.
"... We repeat; HaiWi Didi, you are ordered to reveal yourself and to surrender yourself and your compatriots to the authority of the Empress immediately. We repeat..." The radio operator droned her message over and over. Didi was just considering switching off to check on the crew when she heard a familiar voice take over the radio. "Lady HaiWi, we know you're out there, hiding from us, and we know you took on two hands at Five Spires. What we don't know is if you are really in league with them. Your father may be a thorn in our side, but... well as for me I simply do not believe that the Didi I grew up with would knowingly harbor Hawk Clan assassins. They murdered a banker and a merchant, Didi. For money. No politics, no idealism, just money. Set them off ship and set a flare and we'll..."
Didi switched off the wireless. Chunja was a hard ass and a loyal military woman, but she'd never lie to get what she wanted. Didi was certain of it.
She put on her best nonchalant face and moved quietly down into the galley. Tea and cookies were laid out, the tin teapot still steaming, but Ae wasn't there.
She pulled a fillet knife from a drawer and moved down into stowage.
The only light was the dim evening light being reflected off the mountain brook below. Ji was in the process of folding the streamers and the cargo hatch was still open to accommodate him. Ae was still nowhere to be seen. Had she gone up to the aft deck or engine compartment?
"Didi, shouldn't you be watching the sky? It's isn't quite dark yet." Ji never looked up from his work.
"I think we're safe. Hey... that pendant of Ae's... it's a hawk, right? I was just thinking how much it looked like a clan symbol I used to know and I thought maybe... "
Snap!
Didi jumped to the side just as the webbing holding the barrels and crates on her left snapped. She narrowly avoided being tossed out of the cargo hold with the supplies but was badly off balance and had to drop her filet knife to grab a handful of rigging.
From the corner of her eye, she just made out the silhouette of Ae crouching in the rigging where the barrels had come lose. The girl had probably been responsible. At that moment, Didi felt a strong sense of loss. She had started imagining that Ji and Ae would stick with her for a few weeks or even months as her crew. And she really liked the idea of becoming a proper captain.
Ji took advantage of Didi's moment of introspection to reach for a prybar and take a swing at her. With her arms still wrapped up in the rigging behind her, Didi lifted up her legs and planted them both squarely in Ji's stomach, sending him flying back into a stack of crates. It was a good move, but it also left her open to Ae's swing with the hatchet. Didi twisted her head and only managed to get a good gash with the blunt side of the iron across her cheek.
And that's when Dodug decided to get in on the action. Loping across the cargo the little red mongoose leapt onto Ae's shoulder and set to clawing and biting at her chin and neck. Ae reacted by grabbing Dodug by the tail and flinging her at the open cargo door.
"Shit!" Didi wrenched her hands free from the rigging, dug a toe into the same and lunged face first out of the door, catching the rodent mid air.
Upside down and dangling by one foot, Didi looked Dodug in the eye. "Nice try, little friend. But I think maybe we've been beat today." And then they were falling.
Didi and Dodug crawled out of the brook together, cold and soaked. Above, she watched the cargo doors of her Summertide close as the ship began to gain altitude. "Dodug, those idiots are going to try to run."
Dodug responded with a series of fast and wet mongoose sneezes.
"I know, right? They'll either crash or be caught by Captain Chunja before the sun sets. Damn fools."
Didi looked around at the barrels and crates that had fallen out before she did.
"I see food and I see firewood, Dodug. That'll keep us for the night. In the morning we'll follow this brook downstream and see if it leads us to a village or something."
Dodug burrowed her way into a broken crate of linens and sneezed a few more times for good measure.
"I know, I know. But adventure is what we set out for. And we certainly haven't lost that."
The sun was just rising over the eastern plains when she had the furnace hot enough to steam. Briefly, she radio'd the dockmaster her intent to depart and request to decouple. The sound of the cables falling away and the mumbling return radio call from the dockmaster's assistant came simultaneously. With one hand Didi poured a cup of tea and with the other gently pressed forward on the lever which rerouted steam from exhaust into the drive shaft.
Come evening time Didi's ship, the Summertide, had crossed a third of the way across the plains and the distant mountains had come into view. With the weather being so calm, Didi was kicked back in a hammock next to the tiller. She had a new novel in one hand and a fresh cup of tea in the other. At the same time, her pet mongoose Dodug was busy scurrying her way from one side of the cockpit to the other. The little red rodent was doing what it liked to do best: stuffing every single loose nut and bolt it could find into its nest. Whenever Didi had a hard time finding a particular screw or flange for a repair, she'd go raiding Dodug's hidey-hole behind the instrument panel. The whole thing would be cute, and even helpful, if Dodug didn't have the habit of taking things apart wherever she could.
On Dodug's third trip this evening, she got tangled up in her treasure and tripped over it. Didi looked up from her book "Be careful there, you little monster. The last thing you need is an itty-bitty mongoose concussion."
Didi watched Dodug switch tack and start shuffling backwards, dragging the long fine chain behind her. Up the instrument panel and then butt-first into the hole where the original barometer used to be.
"I'm going to be mad with you if you hurt yourself, Dodug!" Didi went back to her book. Then she immediately put it back down to roll over and light her lamp as the sunset was loosing its capacity to let her read.
As Dodug scurried back across the floor to start her treasure search again, Didi suddenly dropped her book onto her stomach. "That wasn't a nut or bolt, was it, Dodug? What did you find?" Didi rolled out of the hammock and went to peer into the hole in the instrument panel. Too dark to see anything, she just reached in and started feeling around, quickly finding what she was looking for. It was a long gold chain. Finely crafted. A gold pendant hanging from it in the shape of a hawk.
Down the narrow stair and behind the cramped galley was the cramped stowage compartment of the Summertide. Didi held her lantern high and low, trying to find any clue about where Dodug might have found that necklace.
The chop and thrum from the engine made it impossible to hear even her own footsteps and Didi wasn't expecting anything louder than the sound of Dodug trying to claw her way into a crate or barrel. Which is why she screamed when she turned a corner and found herself nose to nose with a pair of wide eyed faces.
Didi stared at the two of them. She'd never had stowaways before and she wasn't exactly sure what to do about it. They were thin, pale, and dressed in old layered street clothes to keep out the cold. She was pretty sure they were both teens, one an older boy and the other a younger girl, but they were so dirty that she could have been mistaken on all counts.
"Is this yours?" Didi held out the locket at arms length and let the lantern light shine on it. For a moment Didi thought that the two might not move or react at all. Maybe they weren't real? Or just ghosts? But then the girl nudged the boy forward, breaking the illusion.
"Yeah, it's hers. We're not going back to Five Spires. We won't let you take us back."
"Hrm... well... hrm..." Didi chewed her lip. "Well, you can't stay down here. It's going to get too cold. Let's have some dinner and we'll talk about it, yeah?"
Didi's initial assumptions were correct. They were Ji and Ae, brother and sister orphans escaped from the Five Spire Imperial Home for the Unwanted, a combination asylum and orphanage on the northern edge of the city. Ji had been rented out as a laborer on the docks and Ae as a baker's assistant. When Didi had docked a few days back, Ji formulated a plan get get himself and Ae into the Summertide's underbelly cargo hatch.
"Well, I'll tell you what..." Didi paused long enough to take a bit from a ginger cookie and top off Ae's tea. "I'll give you two choices. Either I can drop you off at the first village we find in the morning or you can crew with me for a little while. Since Ae was a baker's assistant, she can keep the galley clean and keep our meals." Ae smiled at Didi and took another cookie. "And Ji can keep the boiler charged and help with maintenance."
Ji nodded and made eye contact with Ae for confirmation. "Are you travelling away from Five Spires?"
"Yes."
"How far?"
"Very far."
"Then we'd like to be your crew, Didi."
"Captain Didi."
"Yes, captain." Ji's smirk wasn't completely condescending; there was a hint of true humor there, so Didi took it as good enough.
"Ae can take the folding bunk here in the galley. Ji, we'll get you some spare blankets from cargo and you can sleep on the floor. But first I want you two to draw some hot water and wash up. You smell. I'll get you a towel."
Ae was the first one to spot the ship break through the clouds behind them.
The day had gone smoother than Didi imagined it would. Ae had her tea ready for her first thing in the morning, Didi didn't even have to ask. Ji immediately proved himself to be a hard and resourceful worker. He moved all the coal they'd need from stowage into the cockpit before lunch and then spent the time before dinner fishing Dodug's treasure bits out of his nest and finding the places where they belonged. Well, where most of them belonged anyway.
Didi was just sinking into her hammock for an early afternoon read when Ae came into the cockpit. "Captain Didi? Um... there's something behind us."
"Hrm? We are pretty close to the mountains now. I wouldn't be surprised if some cormorant flock was trailing us for fun."
"I don't think it's a cormorant, captain. It looks like a ship. The sun's behind it so I can't see the colors but it looks... official."
In a less than graceful move, Didi tumbled out of her bunk and grabbed her spyglass. Out on deck she unfolded it and looked. "Shit. Shit shit."
"You're still not going to let them take us, right captain? We have a deal, right?" Ji was sticking his greasy and dusty face out of the cockpit's lardboard window.
"That's an imperial interceptor. I doubt they're after a pair of escaped orphans. Which means they're after me."
The siblings shared a look. "Why would they be after you, Didi?"
"Politics. My father isn't very popular in all corners of the empire and this wouldn't be the first time someone thought they could use me against him. Anyway, it's time to get to work. I need both of you at the boiler and shoveling. We're going to press on into the mountains. Those interceptors are fantastic at straight line sailing but terrible with crosswinds and tight maneuvers."
For the next two hours the orphans shoveled, Didi piloted, and Dodug helped herself to some crackers in a cupboard that Ae neglected to make mongoose-proof after lunch. Buy the time the Summertide had made it into the mountains, the interceptor had almost completely closed the distance between them. Even at full steam on a ship as light as this, they didn't have any hope of out-distancing the three-engine'd imperial ship.
Didi dove hard into the clouds that hung at the mountains' peaks. "Ae, close that hatch and start venting steam to the exhaust. Ji, go down to stowage. I want you to open the cargo doors and release the streamers. They'll help us shed speed before we get too close to the mountains. Hurry."
Below the clouds the mountains were chilly, but green and rolling in summer grasses. The Summertide groaned as the colorful canvas streamer snapped and caught the wind, dragging her speed down to a more manageable rate.
"Ae, take the tiller for a minute, I need to look for something." Didi stepped out onto the foredeck and glanced up at their cloud cover. A thin mist of rain made her squint. No sign of the interceptor yet. They may have lost them already. No need to take chances though, so she opened her spy glass and started scoping out the peaks. In a minute she found what she was looking for. Less than half a kilometer away was a craggy cliff face.
With her new crew watching intently, Didi gently swung her ship in close to the cliff face and gently lowered them down until they were just above a small mountain stream that ran below.
"We aren't seriously staying here, are we?" Ji stared at Didi.
"Well, not only can that interceptor not turn very well, it also has a hard time slowing down. So, with the cloud cover above us, the cliff on our starboard, and that hill on our lardboard they'd have to fly right above us to find us. Even then, if they spotted us they'd fly right by and give us enough time to find a new hiding spot. In another hour the sun will be down and they'll have to abandon the chase or risk running into a mountain they can't see. I'd say we're in a very good position for now."
"So, I need you to go down and reel in the streamers. Ae, make some tea please. If I'm right we'll be enjoying a quiet night right here and I could really use a cup."
Once the two were below decks with their duties, Didi turned on the wireless and listened. If there was more than one ship nearby she'd want to know about it.
"... We repeat; HaiWi Didi, you are ordered to reveal yourself and to surrender yourself and your compatriots to the authority of the Empress immediately. We repeat..." The radio operator droned her message over and over. Didi was just considering switching off to check on the crew when she heard a familiar voice take over the radio. "Lady HaiWi, we know you're out there, hiding from us, and we know you took on two hands at Five Spires. What we don't know is if you are really in league with them. Your father may be a thorn in our side, but... well as for me I simply do not believe that the Didi I grew up with would knowingly harbor Hawk Clan assassins. They murdered a banker and a merchant, Didi. For money. No politics, no idealism, just money. Set them off ship and set a flare and we'll..."
Didi switched off the wireless. Chunja was a hard ass and a loyal military woman, but she'd never lie to get what she wanted. Didi was certain of it.
She put on her best nonchalant face and moved quietly down into the galley. Tea and cookies were laid out, the tin teapot still steaming, but Ae wasn't there.
She pulled a fillet knife from a drawer and moved down into stowage.
The only light was the dim evening light being reflected off the mountain brook below. Ji was in the process of folding the streamers and the cargo hatch was still open to accommodate him. Ae was still nowhere to be seen. Had she gone up to the aft deck or engine compartment?
"Didi, shouldn't you be watching the sky? It's isn't quite dark yet." Ji never looked up from his work.
"I think we're safe. Hey... that pendant of Ae's... it's a hawk, right? I was just thinking how much it looked like a clan symbol I used to know and I thought maybe... "
Snap!
Didi jumped to the side just as the webbing holding the barrels and crates on her left snapped. She narrowly avoided being tossed out of the cargo hold with the supplies but was badly off balance and had to drop her filet knife to grab a handful of rigging.
From the corner of her eye, she just made out the silhouette of Ae crouching in the rigging where the barrels had come lose. The girl had probably been responsible. At that moment, Didi felt a strong sense of loss. She had started imagining that Ji and Ae would stick with her for a few weeks or even months as her crew. And she really liked the idea of becoming a proper captain.
Ji took advantage of Didi's moment of introspection to reach for a prybar and take a swing at her. With her arms still wrapped up in the rigging behind her, Didi lifted up her legs and planted them both squarely in Ji's stomach, sending him flying back into a stack of crates. It was a good move, but it also left her open to Ae's swing with the hatchet. Didi twisted her head and only managed to get a good gash with the blunt side of the iron across her cheek.
And that's when Dodug decided to get in on the action. Loping across the cargo the little red mongoose leapt onto Ae's shoulder and set to clawing and biting at her chin and neck. Ae reacted by grabbing Dodug by the tail and flinging her at the open cargo door.
"Shit!" Didi wrenched her hands free from the rigging, dug a toe into the same and lunged face first out of the door, catching the rodent mid air.
Upside down and dangling by one foot, Didi looked Dodug in the eye. "Nice try, little friend. But I think maybe we've been beat today." And then they were falling.
Didi and Dodug crawled out of the brook together, cold and soaked. Above, she watched the cargo doors of her Summertide close as the ship began to gain altitude. "Dodug, those idiots are going to try to run."
Dodug responded with a series of fast and wet mongoose sneezes.
"I know, right? They'll either crash or be caught by Captain Chunja before the sun sets. Damn fools."
Didi looked around at the barrels and crates that had fallen out before she did.
"I see food and I see firewood, Dodug. That'll keep us for the night. In the morning we'll follow this brook downstream and see if it leads us to a village or something."
Dodug burrowed her way into a broken crate of linens and sneezed a few more times for good measure.
"I know, I know. But adventure is what we set out for. And we certainly haven't lost that."
TR Vanguard - Part Three
To his right was a series of pools packed with swimmers. To his left was a small grassy amphitheater where a string and brass trio were playing to a throng the well dressed. Straight ahead were a series of interconnected rooms and lounges made to look like a series of triangles, spheres, and cylinders that had toppled onto one another. Above all of this was a holographic sky that would have been perfectly at home over some tropical island.
Mil straightened his shirt and set about mingling. If Timoteus Reed's old vbox was still here in his ex girlfriend's apartment, he'd need to find out where she was stashing it at. And then he'd need to figure out how he would get it out.
He accepted a glass of white wine from a wandering cocktail girl and proceeded to mingle his way toward the rooms at the far end of the enclave. On his way, he paused to enjoy a few moments of the music in the amphitheater and to unsuccessfully flirt with a particularly cute member of the audience. Shrugging off the rejection, he finished off his glass and handed it off to the same cocktail girl who'd handed to him in the first place.
Wait, no. The girl who gave him his drink was wearing a white tuxedo shirt with a thin red tie. This girl was wearing a white tuxedo shirt with a thin black tie. Mil squinted at her as she walked away. Either there was one girl who had changed her tie really fast or Sapphire Jay had hired twins to run drinks at her party.
Or maybe...
Mil craned his neck around, scanning the crowd. He could still see black tie walking away from him, trading full glasses for empty ones with the audience members at the amphitheater. Red tie was back over on the stony path where guests were steadily streaming into the apartment. And there, over at the pools, were two more; an orange tie and a lavender tie. They all had the same facial features, same haircut, and the same mannerisms. Apparently Sapphire Jay was the owner of some very high end service droids.
He smiled broadly and continued his mingling movements toward the giant beige triangle that was the entrance to the rooms. Once inside he accepted a fresh drink from a blue tie cocktail droid and he wandered, as casually as he could muster. There were lounges and kitchens, game rooms filled with eclectic old novelties, and multiple music rooms where guests demonstrated their skills with whatever instruments were lying around.
In the middle of a long hallway, Mil discovered a wooden spiral staircase that didn't appear to have any traffic on it. A quick glance in either direction revealed guests that were too caught up in their own conversations to see anything unusual. At the top was a small open room with a large set of double doors flanked by flowering trees. A bedroom? He set his glass down next to the potter for one of the trees and fished his universal key out of his pocket.
"Excuse me, but Sapphire asks that guests not dally on this floor." Unlike the others, this droid wasn't wearing a tux shirt and tie. Instead, she wore a slate and ash grey strapless dress. Her mannerisms were a little different, too. More self-confident? Maybe. In any event, she gave off the air of being in charge. Perhaps she was more of a personal servant or maybe she played butler to the rest of the staff.
"Whoops. You caught me. I was trying to find my way back to the kitchen when I got a little curious about those stairs. " Mil moved toward the spiral and started back down. "Say, you're an android, right? A J-Series by SmithWorks, am I right?"
"No, sir. I am a third generation eMA-Doll manufactured by KUKA Robotics. It would be my pleasure to show you back to the kitchens if you would like."
"Yes, I think I'd like that." Mil reached for his commpen and sent a quick message without breaking eye contact with the android. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Jay myself. Is she expected to make an appearance tonight?"
"Of course, sir. Sapphire always ends all her parties by playing a new song or two at the amphitheater. It's still early, though. You have at least an hour before she will come out to greet everyone."
"I see." Mil glanced at the return message on his commpen. He didn't bother reading the attached price; it would just be added to his expense report anyway. He just clicked accept and read the attachment.
"Doll...?"
"Yes sir?"
"Yo pinto tejados verdes para el cultivo de algas rojo" Mil pronounced each word as carefully as he could, doing his best to circumvent his island accent.
"Administrator access recognized, technician Greeves. This unit is ready for instruction."
"I need a little help finding something, Doll."
to be continued...
Mil straightened his shirt and set about mingling. If Timoteus Reed's old vbox was still here in his ex girlfriend's apartment, he'd need to find out where she was stashing it at. And then he'd need to figure out how he would get it out.
He accepted a glass of white wine from a wandering cocktail girl and proceeded to mingle his way toward the rooms at the far end of the enclave. On his way, he paused to enjoy a few moments of the music in the amphitheater and to unsuccessfully flirt with a particularly cute member of the audience. Shrugging off the rejection, he finished off his glass and handed it off to the same cocktail girl who'd handed to him in the first place.
Wait, no. The girl who gave him his drink was wearing a white tuxedo shirt with a thin red tie. This girl was wearing a white tuxedo shirt with a thin black tie. Mil squinted at her as she walked away. Either there was one girl who had changed her tie really fast or Sapphire Jay had hired twins to run drinks at her party.
Or maybe...
Mil craned his neck around, scanning the crowd. He could still see black tie walking away from him, trading full glasses for empty ones with the audience members at the amphitheater. Red tie was back over on the stony path where guests were steadily streaming into the apartment. And there, over at the pools, were two more; an orange tie and a lavender tie. They all had the same facial features, same haircut, and the same mannerisms. Apparently Sapphire Jay was the owner of some very high end service droids.
He smiled broadly and continued his mingling movements toward the giant beige triangle that was the entrance to the rooms. Once inside he accepted a fresh drink from a blue tie cocktail droid and he wandered, as casually as he could muster. There were lounges and kitchens, game rooms filled with eclectic old novelties, and multiple music rooms where guests demonstrated their skills with whatever instruments were lying around.
In the middle of a long hallway, Mil discovered a wooden spiral staircase that didn't appear to have any traffic on it. A quick glance in either direction revealed guests that were too caught up in their own conversations to see anything unusual. At the top was a small open room with a large set of double doors flanked by flowering trees. A bedroom? He set his glass down next to the potter for one of the trees and fished his universal key out of his pocket.
"Excuse me, but Sapphire asks that guests not dally on this floor." Unlike the others, this droid wasn't wearing a tux shirt and tie. Instead, she wore a slate and ash grey strapless dress. Her mannerisms were a little different, too. More self-confident? Maybe. In any event, she gave off the air of being in charge. Perhaps she was more of a personal servant or maybe she played butler to the rest of the staff.
"Whoops. You caught me. I was trying to find my way back to the kitchen when I got a little curious about those stairs. " Mil moved toward the spiral and started back down. "Say, you're an android, right? A J-Series by SmithWorks, am I right?"
"No, sir. I am a third generation eMA-Doll manufactured by KUKA Robotics. It would be my pleasure to show you back to the kitchens if you would like."
"Yes, I think I'd like that." Mil reached for his commpen and sent a quick message without breaking eye contact with the android. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Jay myself. Is she expected to make an appearance tonight?"
"Of course, sir. Sapphire always ends all her parties by playing a new song or two at the amphitheater. It's still early, though. You have at least an hour before she will come out to greet everyone."
"I see." Mil glanced at the return message on his commpen. He didn't bother reading the attached price; it would just be added to his expense report anyway. He just clicked accept and read the attachment.
"Doll...?"
"Yes sir?"
"Yo pinto tejados verdes para el cultivo de algas rojo" Mil pronounced each word as carefully as he could, doing his best to circumvent his island accent.
"Administrator access recognized, technician Greeves. This unit is ready for instruction."
"I need a little help finding something, Doll."
to be continued...
Silver and Tin - Part Three
The pistolera moved from two first class sleeper berths to the first class dining car and on to the bar car. Only the bar had any wakeful souls in it. All the lights were out in the sleeper and the diner was only occupied by a handful of wait staff, sleeping between the otherwise unoccupied dining tables.
The bar had a handful of patrons. The two at the bar were trading ever-increasingly woeful tales of misfortune. The three at a table were playing a wordless but animated round of dominoes. The bartender was attempting to stomp on something that was apparently moving behind the bar. None of them looked her way as she studied them.
Convinced that her thief wasn't here, she moved on.
Opening the rear door of the bar car and looking at the next car caused the hair on her good hand to stand up. This car stood out from the rest in several ways. It was a double decker. The lights were all brightly lit with dozens of people active and moving around inside. This was the place.
She slid open the door and gave the bouncer a brief nod. She moved past tables dealing blackjack, pai gow, monte, and even a craps table. She slithered between dozens of gamblers, any one of whom could have been her thief. Not that it mattered. If her thief was in here then he almost certainly put her box and medal up for some chips to gamble. And if that was the case then it would be with the bank... upstairs.
Access to the second floor was found by way of a narrow wooden spiral staircase. On either side of that staircase, and sitting halfway up it, were three armed guards. The one on the staircase was sleepy looking. Maybe drunk. The one on the left was deeply distracted by the exposed skin of the young lady at the craps table.
But the one on the right, well he might be a problem. A head taller than everyone else in the car, clear eyed, focused on the crowd, and nursing a scowl that was so un-moving it may have been a birth defect. She decided that he was looking for a fight. In the jungle she might have given it to him. Here in this crowded car she didn't care for her chances.
Without pausing, she moved all the way through the car and out the back. The next car was storage for luggage. Perfect.
She swung herself onto the luggage car's rooftop access ladder and climbed up. The bright lights from the first floor of the casino were blocked by the luggage car and the lights on the second floor were dim. She was a shadow, more lit by the moon than by the lamps.
The second floor of the casino car was split into two. The front half was a luxury cabin. The back half was an exposed patio with ornate iron half-rails. With a short run up she casually leapt to the patio rails, pulled herself up, and rolled onto its carpeted floor.
She drew her revolver with her good hand and crawled her way to the door. Inside there were four. Two appeared to be asleep on opposite couches, arms dangling down to a floor littered in empty beer bottles. The third was reading a book under a shaded lamp, legs crossed under a long blue skirt. The fourth was her favorite though. That red bowler reading a newspaper had walked through her cabin a few times earlier in the evening. A broad smile crept its way across her face and settled in to stay a while.
They never heard the window open, not over the sound of the gamers below. Nor did they see the shadow crossing the half-cabin, not over the lights they were reading by. Red bowler's introduction was made by the sound of the Navy Judge cocking in his ear.
"I'm here for what's mine."
Blue skirt dropped her novel to the floor in shock. Red bowler slowly closed his paper. The beer bottle twins snored in stereo.
"This young lady appears to have mistaken us for the lost and found, Sidney. Be a dear and summon the conductor, would you?"
Blue skirt kept her eyes on the pistolera as she shook her head; hell no.
The pistolera pressed the barrel into red bowler's temple hard enough to cock his head. A towering shadow of a thing formed behind her. It raised an arm and a length of iron rebar, then brought them both down hard. The pistolera spun down and back, catching the iron squarely in her three-fingered hand. She and the great shadow were one now as the it attempted to dislodge its weapon, only to spin her up into the air, still holding on.
Red bowler jumped up from his chair just as the pistolera squeezed the trigger. The hat went flying, accompanied by a spray of blood, most of his right ear, and a great many curses from his lips. He landed on one of the two sleepers, nearly managing to wake him.
Sidney, the young thing in the blue skirt, lunged for a nearby table and started hurling everything she could lay her hands on; a few pulp novels, followed by a full beer bottle, which was then followed by a familiar lacquered medal box. It rebounded off her chin and thumped to the floor.
"Get your lazy, good for nothing ass off those stairs or I will throw you off!" The scowling stair guard had heard the gunshot. Time was ticking.
The pistolera, still holding the rebar, wrapped her gun-wielding wrist over the creatures great arm and then swung herself over its head, bringing the iron into its throat. Behind it now, she realized the monster was a woman. A huge woman.
"Nothing personal." The pistolera held the rebar at both ends, planted her little feet on the giant's shoulder blades and leaned back as hard and fast as she could. Instantly the beast was toppled.
She rolled back, reached for the box with her three fingered hand, and dashed for the patio door. A dozen strides later she was suspended in the cool night air, leaping back to the cargo car.
"Just you, Maton. Find her. If she hasn't already jumped from the train, you will throw her from it. Understood?" Perma-scowl turned to carry out his orders. Red bowler accepted a hankie Sidney was offering him and pressed it to the remains of his ear.
"Wait. Cut one of her ears off first. Almost imperceptibly, the scowl made room for the beginnings of a grin and Maton was off again.
He checked the baggage cars first, assuming that she would try to hide in the luggage. When that proved fruitless, he turned back to the front of the train and the lower-class passenger cars.
As he strode through the bar car, the bartender smiled at him and waved a bottle at him in greeting.
"Busy" he mumbled, giving the tale tellers and domino players only the briefest inspection before charging through the door.
Shrugging, the bartender knelt down to slide open the cabinet door where he normally kept his beer stock.
"He's gone, pistolera." He handed the bottle to the woman in the cupboard.
She smiled and took the bottle, then raised a single finger to indicate that she wanted him to wait a moment. From under her coat she pulled the little lacquered wooden box. She took out the medal and handed it to him. As he gaped at it, she pulled the ornate green felt out of the bottom of it and removed a thick folded sheaf of papers reading "Deed of Property" and a tintype of a young lady in a dancer's costume. She handed the box and felt to him, too.
"Throw those off the train for me, will you. And wake me at Mountain Home. I have business there."
With a wink, she slid the cupboard closed. The bartender slid the medal (which would soon be an untraceable hunk of silver) into his pocket and set about cleaning up the bar.
The bar had a handful of patrons. The two at the bar were trading ever-increasingly woeful tales of misfortune. The three at a table were playing a wordless but animated round of dominoes. The bartender was attempting to stomp on something that was apparently moving behind the bar. None of them looked her way as she studied them.
Convinced that her thief wasn't here, she moved on.
Opening the rear door of the bar car and looking at the next car caused the hair on her good hand to stand up. This car stood out from the rest in several ways. It was a double decker. The lights were all brightly lit with dozens of people active and moving around inside. This was the place.
She slid open the door and gave the bouncer a brief nod. She moved past tables dealing blackjack, pai gow, monte, and even a craps table. She slithered between dozens of gamblers, any one of whom could have been her thief. Not that it mattered. If her thief was in here then he almost certainly put her box and medal up for some chips to gamble. And if that was the case then it would be with the bank... upstairs.
Access to the second floor was found by way of a narrow wooden spiral staircase. On either side of that staircase, and sitting halfway up it, were three armed guards. The one on the staircase was sleepy looking. Maybe drunk. The one on the left was deeply distracted by the exposed skin of the young lady at the craps table.
But the one on the right, well he might be a problem. A head taller than everyone else in the car, clear eyed, focused on the crowd, and nursing a scowl that was so un-moving it may have been a birth defect. She decided that he was looking for a fight. In the jungle she might have given it to him. Here in this crowded car she didn't care for her chances.
Without pausing, she moved all the way through the car and out the back. The next car was storage for luggage. Perfect.
She swung herself onto the luggage car's rooftop access ladder and climbed up. The bright lights from the first floor of the casino were blocked by the luggage car and the lights on the second floor were dim. She was a shadow, more lit by the moon than by the lamps.
The second floor of the casino car was split into two. The front half was a luxury cabin. The back half was an exposed patio with ornate iron half-rails. With a short run up she casually leapt to the patio rails, pulled herself up, and rolled onto its carpeted floor.
She drew her revolver with her good hand and crawled her way to the door. Inside there were four. Two appeared to be asleep on opposite couches, arms dangling down to a floor littered in empty beer bottles. The third was reading a book under a shaded lamp, legs crossed under a long blue skirt. The fourth was her favorite though. That red bowler reading a newspaper had walked through her cabin a few times earlier in the evening. A broad smile crept its way across her face and settled in to stay a while.
They never heard the window open, not over the sound of the gamers below. Nor did they see the shadow crossing the half-cabin, not over the lights they were reading by. Red bowler's introduction was made by the sound of the Navy Judge cocking in his ear.
"I'm here for what's mine."
Blue skirt dropped her novel to the floor in shock. Red bowler slowly closed his paper. The beer bottle twins snored in stereo.
"This young lady appears to have mistaken us for the lost and found, Sidney. Be a dear and summon the conductor, would you?"
Blue skirt kept her eyes on the pistolera as she shook her head; hell no.
The pistolera pressed the barrel into red bowler's temple hard enough to cock his head. A towering shadow of a thing formed behind her. It raised an arm and a length of iron rebar, then brought them both down hard. The pistolera spun down and back, catching the iron squarely in her three-fingered hand. She and the great shadow were one now as the it attempted to dislodge its weapon, only to spin her up into the air, still holding on.
Red bowler jumped up from his chair just as the pistolera squeezed the trigger. The hat went flying, accompanied by a spray of blood, most of his right ear, and a great many curses from his lips. He landed on one of the two sleepers, nearly managing to wake him.
Sidney, the young thing in the blue skirt, lunged for a nearby table and started hurling everything she could lay her hands on; a few pulp novels, followed by a full beer bottle, which was then followed by a familiar lacquered medal box. It rebounded off her chin and thumped to the floor.
"Get your lazy, good for nothing ass off those stairs or I will throw you off!" The scowling stair guard had heard the gunshot. Time was ticking.
The pistolera, still holding the rebar, wrapped her gun-wielding wrist over the creatures great arm and then swung herself over its head, bringing the iron into its throat. Behind it now, she realized the monster was a woman. A huge woman.
"Nothing personal." The pistolera held the rebar at both ends, planted her little feet on the giant's shoulder blades and leaned back as hard and fast as she could. Instantly the beast was toppled.
She rolled back, reached for the box with her three fingered hand, and dashed for the patio door. A dozen strides later she was suspended in the cool night air, leaping back to the cargo car.
"Just you, Maton. Find her. If she hasn't already jumped from the train, you will throw her from it. Understood?" Perma-scowl turned to carry out his orders. Red bowler accepted a hankie Sidney was offering him and pressed it to the remains of his ear.
"Wait. Cut one of her ears off first. Almost imperceptibly, the scowl made room for the beginnings of a grin and Maton was off again.
He checked the baggage cars first, assuming that she would try to hide in the luggage. When that proved fruitless, he turned back to the front of the train and the lower-class passenger cars.
As he strode through the bar car, the bartender smiled at him and waved a bottle at him in greeting.
"Busy" he mumbled, giving the tale tellers and domino players only the briefest inspection before charging through the door.
Shrugging, the bartender knelt down to slide open the cabinet door where he normally kept his beer stock.
"He's gone, pistolera." He handed the bottle to the woman in the cupboard.
She smiled and took the bottle, then raised a single finger to indicate that she wanted him to wait a moment. From under her coat she pulled the little lacquered wooden box. She took out the medal and handed it to him. As he gaped at it, she pulled the ornate green felt out of the bottom of it and removed a thick folded sheaf of papers reading "Deed of Property" and a tintype of a young lady in a dancer's costume. She handed the box and felt to him, too.
"Throw those off the train for me, will you. And wake me at Mountain Home. I have business there."
With a wink, she slid the cupboard closed. The bartender slid the medal (which would soon be an untraceable hunk of silver) into his pocket and set about cleaning up the bar.
Silver and Tin - Part Two
The light streaming through her window had turned orange. The sun was setting over the mountains. The aging magrail cabin was growing dim. Her beer was empty. And if there was one sure thing that meant it was time to get a bit of sleep, it was an empty beer.
The pistolera saluted the couple with the empty bottle before setting it in the cup holder. She couldn't see them in the low light, but she felt confident that they were still talking about her. Nice folks. Possibly inbred.
She tucked the medal box well down into her worn rucksack and then tied the drawstrings of the sack to the wooden legs of her seat. She hesitated then briefly tested to see if the leg would wiggle loose. Confident that no one would be able to make off with all her possessions without making some noise, she let herself doze off to sleep.
It was a combination of beer bladder and the fussy baby a few rows in front of her that roused her a few hours later. She had been dreaming of a lovely little bar in Cadiz that she'd never visited. Everyone important was still alive and dancing there. Even her. As the pistolera made her way back to her car's lavatory, she reflected on how much she hated her bladder for waking her up from that dream.
Shuffling back to her seat she wondered if it was possible for her to will herself back into that bar tonight. Then she saw her spare shirt laying half in the aisle.
Her bag! No... wait... it was still there. Tied to the leg of the seat where she left it. She kneeled down and rolled it back a bit. There was a cut in the bag; perfectly straight, maybe three or four inches long, and in the exact spot where she had stowed her medal box.
Idiot.
Two days back in civilian life and her only valuables get lifted right out from under her.
She pushed back her jacket to loose her revolver and started looking around at the sleeping passengers. A few seats which were occupied earlier in the evening were empty now. Thinking back, she couldn't remember if any of them had been suspicious or not. More likely than not, most of the missing folk were probably in the bar car.
Briefly she considered moving forward into the bar car, restaurant car, and the lower class cabins.
No, she thought. More likely the culprit was still working the train. And that meant that he'd be back in the higher class (and higher payday) cars. She was going to find that thief, get her box back, and do her level best to put at least one bullet in him.
It wouldn't occur to her until later that stealth or subterfuge might have suited her better than a frontal assault.
To be concluded...
The pistolera saluted the couple with the empty bottle before setting it in the cup holder. She couldn't see them in the low light, but she felt confident that they were still talking about her. Nice folks. Possibly inbred.
She tucked the medal box well down into her worn rucksack and then tied the drawstrings of the sack to the wooden legs of her seat. She hesitated then briefly tested to see if the leg would wiggle loose. Confident that no one would be able to make off with all her possessions without making some noise, she let herself doze off to sleep.
It was a combination of beer bladder and the fussy baby a few rows in front of her that roused her a few hours later. She had been dreaming of a lovely little bar in Cadiz that she'd never visited. Everyone important was still alive and dancing there. Even her. As the pistolera made her way back to her car's lavatory, she reflected on how much she hated her bladder for waking her up from that dream.
Shuffling back to her seat she wondered if it was possible for her to will herself back into that bar tonight. Then she saw her spare shirt laying half in the aisle.
Her bag! No... wait... it was still there. Tied to the leg of the seat where she left it. She kneeled down and rolled it back a bit. There was a cut in the bag; perfectly straight, maybe three or four inches long, and in the exact spot where she had stowed her medal box.
Idiot.
Two days back in civilian life and her only valuables get lifted right out from under her.
She pushed back her jacket to loose her revolver and started looking around at the sleeping passengers. A few seats which were occupied earlier in the evening were empty now. Thinking back, she couldn't remember if any of them had been suspicious or not. More likely than not, most of the missing folk were probably in the bar car.
Briefly she considered moving forward into the bar car, restaurant car, and the lower class cabins.
No, she thought. More likely the culprit was still working the train. And that meant that he'd be back in the higher class (and higher payday) cars. She was going to find that thief, get her box back, and do her level best to put at least one bullet in him.
It wouldn't occur to her until later that stealth or subterfuge might have suited her better than a frontal assault.
To be concluded...
Silver and Tin - Part One
"Charles, I said it's shameful. Charles. Charles."
Charles held his paper up over his face for just a moment longer, giving his mustache time enough to cease its twitching. "What is shameful, Clara my love?"
"That boy, Charles. Over there. Just look at him."
Turning in his chair, Charles glanced across the aisle of their second-class car at the passenger his wife was indicating. Wrapped in a burgundy and blue army jacket three sizes too big, the boy was leaned against the window and staring at the contents of a small box he was holding up to the evening light.
Charles was preparing to turn back to Clara and perhaps suggest that the boy had found the coat when he noticed the epaulets: a silver embroidered hawk clutching a revolver in one hand and a bundle of funeral incense in the other. Below the hawk were two parallel silver bars. These were the epaulets of a special forces command sergeant. The boy may be an orphan and he may have only the one jacket for warmth, but he certainly had no business wearing such distinguished insignia. Not while Charles Abril had anything to say about it!
He nodded to his wife. He folded his newspaper and placed it gently on the empty seat beside his. Standing in the aisle of the gently swaying train, he straightened his vest. He tightened his tie. He pressed his reading glasses further up his nose to sit squarely on his face. He rolled down his sleeves and buttoned them about his wrists. This was a serious situation and he intended to approach it as such.
Charles moved down the aisle, taking pride that he didn't need to hold onto the seat backs as he did so. Arriving at the boy's seat, he cleared his throat. Either the boy didn't hear or Charles was being flatly ignored. The little thing was mesmerized by the object within the box. An object which was, as Charles was horrified to see, the Distinguished Silver Talon; a most distinguished medal of honor!
"Pardon me, young bo..."
Charles felt the blood drain from his face. And then he felt it drain from his body. Indeed, the warmth had drained from his entire being, leaving him as cold as a corpse buried beneath a frozen lake.
Turning his face up to make eye contact with Charles, he could see that it wasn't a boy at all - it was a girl. No. Not a girl. Girls have never seen what those eyes had seen. Those eyes didn't look at Charles; they judged him. And they found him lacking. With perfect and damnable clarity Charles saw the purple-black scar behind and below her right eye. He saw the gloved left hand holding the medal box had only three fingers. And he saw the gloved whole hand on her right side lay gently on what could only be an M1412 army issue revolver; the trademark weapon of the Silver Eagles special forces battalion.
"What do you want?"
Hat in hand, Charles returned to his seat a few minutes later.
"Well? Well, Charles? Did you set the boy straight, dear?"
"I bought her a beer."
Charles and Clara spent the rest of the evening enjoying a wonderfully animated conversation (in politely hushed tones, of course) speculating about the war above the peninsula and what this particular pistolera's story might be. When morning came, with the train only a few hours from their final stop in Mountain Home, the Abrils excitedly speculated about the disappearance of their mysterious war hero. Had the conductor moved her up to first class? Had she retreated to the bar car to drink to fallen friends?
Indeed, not knowing the fate of their pistolera heroine was just the icing on the cake for the Abrils. It would make fine storytelling fuel for every dinner party, garden party, and afternoon tea they would attend for the remainder of their years.
To be continued...
With Purpose
Far in space,
orbiting a dim blue star,
in the halls of an ancient ship,
among the ruins of an ancient civilization,
a lonely creature,
built as a companion,
moves from place to place;
from homes to workplaces,
from parks to bazaars,
searching,
for inspiration,
to write her next song.
orbiting a dim blue star,
in the halls of an ancient ship,
among the ruins of an ancient civilization,
a lonely creature,
built as a companion,
moves from place to place;
from homes to workplaces,
from parks to bazaars,
searching,
for inspiration,
to write her next song.
TR Vanguard - Part 2
“Tim’s portfolio? Yeah, I remember it. A little red vbox,
just big enough for a half dozen jacks on it. Why are you asking about that,
man?”
Eddie Castilion was the only living member of Timoteus Reed’s
band. He lifted a hand rolled cigarillo to his mouth with a sleek white and
gold prosthetic arm and lit it with a flesh and blood one. The crash that
killed the rest of the band had taken his right arm and both legs. It had also
badly scarred his face. The subsequent reconstructive surgery made the current Eddie
Castilion look like a distant cousin to the one who played the bass eshamisen
in the Masterdome back in ’72.
“Does it still exist? I read that Timoteus carried it around
with him everywhere he went, right? Like it was a religious artifact or
something. So do you think it’s safe to assume that it went down into the bay
with the rest of the wreck?”
Mil feigned studying the fourteen foot tall gold statue of
the Buddha that formed the centerpiece of Eddie’s loft. It permitted him to
pretend that he didn’t notice the musician flinch when he brought up the
subject of the crash.
For a long time, the only sounds in the loft were Mil’s
shoes shuffling across the sharp white shag carpet, the electric crackling of
Eddie’s cigarillo, and the bubbling of the koi pond. Mil started to wonder if
he had pushed too hard too fast.
“It did, but it didn’t, man. I mean, yeah, Timmy never got
up to take a piss without that thing. It was his crutch, right? A little pocket
world he could visit whenever he needed a little escape time. But… yeah. It’s
still out there. Hell, I could tell you who’s got it. But I’m not gonna because
you still haven’t told me why you’re
looking for the dang thing. We’re talking about a little piece of history here,
man. A piece of ol’ Timoteus himself. Why would I turn a private dick like you
onto it?”
Mil shrugged off the question and thrust his hands into his
jacket pockets. He nonchalantly looked around the loft. It was opulent, yeah,
but it was also a loner’s pad. A shut-in’s pocket universe. There was plenty of
room to hold a considerable party, but only enough furniture and glassware to
entertain one guest at a time. And the lack of wear on the carpet said that
entertaining guests wasn’t something that happened too often.
If the box still existed and Eddie knew who had it, then
that didn’t leave a long list of candidates for ownership.
Mil walked towards the door.
“Oh, Mr. Castilion, Is Sapphire Jay still throwing those um…
little soirees she used to be so famous for?”
Eddie hesitated and gave himself away. And he knew it, which
lent a bit of anger to his reply.
“Every fucking week, man.”
“Thanks for your time.
I’ll let myself out.”
Now Mil was going to need a forged invitation to a party and
a chic shirt. He hated shopping, but he loved expense reports.
Lost Property
The calls were getting louder; the crows closer. The little man picked up his pace down the
ancient deserted highway. He had miles to cover before dark and his mimic box
hadn't been working right in days. The
crows would find him soon and when they did it would be his end for sure.
Deciding that caution was the wiser choice, he turned south
and began hiking through the woods. It
wouldn't shake his pursuers or even slow them down much. But he was low on
ammunition and he calculated that the cover of the trees would force the drones
to swoop in a little closer which, theoretically, would give him an easier shot
at them.
For hours he moved through the trees. Crossing small brooks and through occasional
old world ruins of what might have been a family home or maybe a public
building whose purpose had been forgotten. All the while he could hear the
birds calling to each other; telling each other what they had or hadn't seen of
him.
When he came to a river too wide and too fast for him to
cross he knew it was time.
With his back to the water, he scanned the ruins around him.
He needed a place with an intact roof and multiple escape routes; a good place
to fight. There wasn't much in sight that met his criteria. Rubble blocked
entrances and exits. Tree tops had burst through fragile rafters and
shingles. Everywhere he looked, either
it was would be too easy for the drones to get to him or too hard for him to
get in or out.
“Ca-caw!”
Fuck.
He watched one of the little bastards land about a hundred
yards away on a jutting steel girder. It
turned its head to the left and stared at him with a trio of glossy green eyes.
Snapping its head to the right, it considered him with its larger pair of red
eyes.
“Ca-caw! Ca-caw! Ca-caw!”
He ran. The time for
thinking was over and the little man immediately missed its presence. Thinking
time was an old friend in a cozy room with comfortable furniture. This was
acting time. It was none of those
things. He wasn’t designed for this.
Between rusting hulks of public transportation and over the
tops of piles of stone, brick, and asphalt. He tore a gash in his pants and
shin. He smashed a little finger, peeling the nail right back so it hung loose.
He recognized that each of these smallish injuries occurred but did not permit
himself to dwell on the pain. That could
wait. For now he was focusing on the five circling black dots above him. They
were preparing to strike.
Finally he saw what he needed. It was an old factory. Or
maybe it had been a warehouse in its living days. Either way, there were large
open doors that he could run in and out of and, judging from the lack of
interior light; the roof must be mostly intact. The only problem was the twenty
or so yards of open terrain between here and there. There would be plenty of
opportunity for the crows to drop on him.
Even so, it wasn't as if he had any other choices. He un-slung his gun
from his back, took a deep breath, and sprinted.
Immediately they dove at him. They looped and they circled
and they cried madly at him. It wasn't an attack. Not yet, anyway. They wanted
him to waste his ammunition on a fast target. Or maybe they wanted to see how
good he was with the gun. Or maybe they were just robot assholes. In any event,
he wasn't going to fall for it. He knew their games and he’d wait for a good
shot before he pulled that trigger.
The moment he was inside the gaping doorway, big enough to
drive a hauler straight in, before his eyes could adjust to the dim, he spun on
his heel and leveled the lightweight combat shotgun at the space just where he’d
run through.
They were fast but he was smart. It only made sense to him
that they’d come in low to try to knock him down at the moment he was adjusting
to his new surroundings. As their shadows passed the threshold he carefully
squeezed a single shot. He was hoping for the lead bird but it was one just to
the leader’s left side that flew into the shot. The machine fell to the ground
with all the grace of a thrown anvil, its fragile wings splintering and
exploding into dust on impact.
The remaining four wheeled around and scattered back out the
way they came.
A huge smile bloomed on the man’s face. It seemed unnatural,
especially to him. He had never been so successful in matters of violence and
action before. He found the sensation of victory quite pleasing. Quite pleasing
indeed.
He strolled over to the bird’s remains, casting only a brief
look to the open doorway. The loss of a member of their flock would mean they
would want to report the change in their situation and to request further
instruction. That would mean at least a ten or twenty minute flight back the
way they came just to get in communications range again. He had time to revel
in his unexpected success.
With makeshift tools scavenged from the ruins, he took his
time disassembling the creature. He removed the parts he found useful and
buried the rest under a mound of debris. With these bits he could repair his
mimic box and stay clear of the birds, possibly forever.
Or maybe he’d draw them in instead. He still had seven
shells for his gun. The man imagined himself destroying the creatures one at a
time. He smiled again.
He liked being an action guy.
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