The North Star, page 11
part #1 of Galactic Sentinel Series
Booster woke and, on seeing Nakamura, growled. He climbed onto Clio’s shoulder and hid behind her head.
“Easily frightened, eh?” The Aegis laughed.
“Don’t be scared, Booster. This is my friend, Aegi Nakamura. Okay?”
The Puck gave a distrustful squeak.
“Xerocorp Labs is twelve miles away. I’ve got a fair measure of the enemy’s movements. If we time it right, we should hit the industrial estate undetected well before dark.”
“Then what?”
“Then we cross that bridge when we get to it.”
They gathered their things, and Aegis Nakamura bore the heavier items despite his one arm.
Clio strapped on the field pack and Booster climbed unbidden into the main compartment, which worked out well since it freed her up.
“You’re taking the Puck?”
“We can’t just leave him here.”
“As long as you understand that once we’re out that door, we need to stay as quiet as possible and can’t stop for anything.”
“He’s lasted longer than we have down here,” she said. “I think he knows what he’s doing.”
Booster squeaked from inside the pack.
Nakamura seemed amused and scratched his head. “If worse comes to worst, we can always eat him.”
Booster hissed, and Clio had to fight back a smile.
Nakamura checked his exo-tool then looked Clio in the eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“I can take care of myself, old man.” She drew her weapon and Booster ducked into his bag and closed the cover.
Nakamura nodded and moved out the door with Clio on his heels.
On reaching the ground floor, the Aegis checked outside before signaling that it was clear. They silently moved out and ran to a row of collapsed buildings and found cover behind the rubble. When Nakamura was satisfied it was safe to do so, he ran across the street and Clio followed.
They quietly hurried from one street lined with white pre-fab buildings to another, hugging to shadows and cover where they could be found.
Clio looked to the center of town where the buildings grew taller against the broken gray clouds. The city had become eerily quiet, and if not for the damage and faint smell of smoke, it could have been mistaken for just another day.
They passed through one cross section of street that had been leveled in a fight. Nearby structures that still stood showed signs of damage: cracks, missing doors, and broken windows.
Her sight wasn’t perfect, but Clio had yet to see any bodies, which she considered strange. She made a point of remembering to ask Nakamura about it later.
The Aegis pointed to an overturned vehicle, signaled the all clear, and Clio followed as he sprinted.
Booster suddenly shook violently in her pack. She was wondering what was wrong when something dropped from the sky in front of them.
They stopped dead in their tracks, weapons raised.
Clio’s heart raced.
It was tall, black, thin and emanated a sense of power.
It was an invader.
BT-12-7HL99
It was long after curfew by the time Randis reached Abundustown. That was to say that most public lights across the Underways had gone out.
He stepped off the old musty train and onto a lifeless street, the low hum of distant traffic and life-support systems the only sounds. It had been years since he last set foot in the human district: when he stored away his gear - the final tethers to his old life. Having once been a member of the Abundus clan, and having left them on less than favorable terms, he was eager not to bump into any of them. He wouldn’t have been overly concerned if it hadn’t involved an indiscretion with the boss’s eldest daughter. It happened many years before, and chances were no one would remember him, but that was a risk he could ill afford.
Some streets were still sparsely lit, where light spilled from the inhabited buildings. Randis avoided walking in the open.
Getting Cho to stay back in Bometown took some convincing. Humans didn’t like Shanti at the best of times. For one from a rival clan to walk into District Nineteen would be suicide, not to mention the unwanted attention it would draw. Randis wasn’t sure whether to admire the kid or consider him a fool. If he was going to successfully complete the job Mr. Darcy had hired him to do, he needed to fetch his old gear, and that wasn’t going to happen with Cho following him around enemy territory.
Randis walked a few miles to the docks where he expected it to be reasonably quiet. To his dismay, either the Abundus clan had upped their business, or a large shipment was being processed because it was much more lively and well lit than he would have liked.
He climbed an abandoned building beyond the yards and observed the activity.
Cranes whizzed to and fro, transferring shipping containers between freight ships bound for the shipping lanes in the Overways that eventually led to Sentinel Station’s spaceports. Dozens of dock workers moved about, and Randis noted security guards doing their rounds. It was less than ideal, but he would have to manage.
On some levels, it would have made sense to just request that the gear be released by the storage company, but that posed several problems. To start with, there was no guarantee they would have released it in time. They may also have charged a release fee that he couldn’t afford. And worst of all, the word could have gotten out that he was still alive.
He walked the fence parimeter until he found a scalable section as close as possible to the storage area he needed: BT-12-7HL99.
Moving stealthily between stacked containers wasn’t easy. There was nowhere to go but forward or back, though every once in a while small outbuildings or vehicles punctuated the lanes. Trash blew by in a light breeze. The place was much dirtier than he remembered.
The previous day’s hangover got worse before it got better. It was the longest Randis had gone without a drink since as far back as he could remember. His throat was dry, he had the shakes, and he longed for a bottle of Sildion Brandy. Mr. Darcy offered him a place in his VIP lounge where the drink flowed freely, but Randis declined, given what happened the last time he took the old snake up on his offer. The job at hand also required a clear head.
It took much longer than Randis thought it would to find the correct warehouse. The yards had exploded in size, and one building looked like another in the dark. He darted between the shadows until he found the number he wanted.
Earlier in the day, he had accessed a public terminal and hacked the dock’s storage manifest to make sure his gear was still there. He paid enough to have it stored indefinitely, but there was no trusting the crooks in the Abundus clan. Randis also used the terminal to obtain security codes for the doors. He was surprised by how fast hacking came back to him. A list of security updates proved troublesome, but once he figured those out he had free reign of their system.
The warehouse loading bay doors were wide open, and it was dark inside. He had to hurry before a lift or a guard arrived.
He slipped in and wound his way between the gray corrugated storage units until he found the one matching his serial number.
Randis was about to confirm the access codes when footsteps approached. He abandoned the door and slipped behind a pile of stacked crates. In his haste, he knocked one free, and it crashed to the ground.
“Did you hear that?” a high-pitched voice muttered.
“Yeah. It came from over there,” a second, much deeper, voice grumbled.
Randis slowly drew his blade. Firing his pistol would likely set alarms off everywhere. Two guards he could deal with, but several security details was another story.
His body tensed as the footsteps drew closer.
He was about to spring when something brushed up against his leg. Giant station rats swarmed around his feet. He carefully kicked one that got too close, and they scurried away in various directions.
“Damn rodents,” the high-pitched guard shouted.
“At least it isn’t a knolra. Lane five still stinks after the last one they found.”
“Knolras only show up every now and then,” the squeaky guard snorted. “These damn rats are everywhere. I mean, where do they keep coming from?”
“Another refrigeration unit must have failed. I’ll message maintenance.”
“The exterminators were down here just the other day.”
“Sometimes I wonder what those bastards get paid for,” the deeper voice complained.
“I bet they kill just enough to make it look like they’ve done their job and leave a few so they can breed. A good way to stay in business, I suppose.”
The deep-voiced guard laughed. “It would beat walking around here with you every night.”
“Fuck you,” the other screeched. “Do you know they say that humans brought rats on board the station over a hundred years ago?”
“Sounds like some anti-human propaganda bullshit to me.”
“Makes sense, if you ask me. Worst kind of vermin, the whole lot of them.”
“The boss hears you say that he’ll put a hole in you.”
Their voices grew louder as they got closer. Randis got ready again when another something crashed outside the warehouse.
“More bastard rats. I’m seriously gonna have words with those exterminators next time I see them.”
“Yeah right,” the deep voice laughed again. “You see the size of that Meladin guy. There’s more meat on him than the two of us and then some.”
“More meat just means fewer brains.”
“I’d love to see you say that to his face.”
“Let’s check it out.”
They moved along, and their conversation faded into silence. Randis realized he was rubbing at the old scar on the back of his head.
When the area was clear, he returned to the keypad and entered the codes again. A lock clicked as it disengaged and the metal panel slid aside. He walked into the dark container and waited for the door to close before locking it and switching on the lights.
It was a long, empty space save for a tall gray locker at the end. The harsh white light cast strange crinkled shapes over the corrugated walls as he approached the box.
It had been so long since he used its contents it felt like another lifetime. Randis figured that it kind of was another lifetime.
He held his hand against the locker’s print scanner and entered another code when prompted, a number he never forgot: his old badge number.
The locker doors hissed open releasing a puff of pressurized gas that he swiped aside. Finally, the doors clicked and slid aside to reveal the locker’s contents.
Before Randis rested a dark blue power suit. It was one of the more advanced models back in the day, but it was likely outdated by modern standards. A few modifications would see it brought up to spec. Upgrades would have to wait, however. A vital deadline was approaching, and there was still much to do.
His exo-tool vibrated.
Stavo, Mr. Darcy’s black market contact, was calling.
Randis answered with a whisper. “I can’t really talk right now.”
“It’s about the implant chip,” Stavo said in his thick Underways accent. “You said it was urgent.”
“It’ll have to be quick.”
“The soonest the Surgeon can see you is in three weeks.”
“I already told you that I can’t wait that long,” Randis hissed. “I have two days, max.”
“Relax, man. I’ve got your back. I happen to know a guy who knows a guy who can fit a chip for you tonight.”
“You mean now?”
“In two hours.”
“Where?”
“District Twenty.”
“You want me to go to Oldtown?”
“Listen, buddy.” Stavo was getting impatient. “There ain’t no one else gonna get you an appointment with that kind of notice. Even illegitimate professionals have businesses to run.”
“Okay. Tell him I’ll be there.”
“You’re the boss.”
A beep signaled the end of the call.
Randis lifted an old musty cloth from a shelf next to the suit and found a curved blade gifted to him by the same friend who had given him the artifact. He never did get to use the weapon before giving up on his past life, though Randis always thought it more decorative than functional. He looked carefully, and it was just as shiny as he remembered, its edge as keen as the day he stored it. It was as if the weapon was beyond the touch of time.
His suit, however, was covered with dust and a thick layer that cold storage always left on certain alloys. In the far right corner hung a Demon D40 assault rifle and a P400 automatic blaster. They were among the best weapons to come out of Earth. Beneath them, however, was what Randis really needed for the job. His old custom built Twin Cobra sniper rifle rested against the locker wall in two parts.
He took a long hard look at it all. Suit and weapons alike acted as extensions of his body back in the day. But for some reason, while he mused over them, they seemed foreign. Randis barely even recognized the name under the suit’s badge: the name Randis had forsaken before returning to the slums from whence he came.
He took the sniper rifle in his hands and clipped it together before giving it a quick once-over. It needed a thorough cleaning but was otherwise in good order. He pressed a button on the suit’s chest-plate, and a storage compartment hissed open.
He slipped the chip from the suit and examined it. The little black square rested in a clear glass tube of suspension gel. It was his old implant chip and reinstalling it was the next item on his task list, though it would require a number of adjustments first. That was where the surgery came in.
The reflection of a wary old man stared at him from inside the glass tube. Saliva gathered in his throat, and he swallowed a bitter cocktail of regret and sorrow. He lost a lot when the Galactic Council tried to kill him and even more since then, his material possessions and dignity included. Maybe part of him did die back then and the shadow of a man he became — Randis Kahn — was just another incarnation.
He put the glass tube back in the compartment and ran his thumbprint along the suit’s activation sensor. The armor whined as power shot through its circuits and poured into its actuators for the first time in seven years.
The sound caused something to shift inside of him. Nostalgia and excitement blazed and burned years of accumulated rot to nothing.
Randis drew a deep breath, and a wind blew through his soul, stirring what lay beneath the ashes. He realized that the feeling was not nostalgia and excitement. It was that ethereal thing called life. Had it really been so long since he felt alive? The sensation had become a stranger to him. But suddenly, it welcomed him like an old friend.
Randis Kahn’s remains drifted away on the wind and revealed the person buried behind the masquerade.
The time had finally come for Arcagent Taza Arkona to return to the land of the living.
MUCH ANGER
The invader’s back was turned on them. Its gleaming black armor sported what looked to be wings on the shoulders, which explained how it fell from somewhere above.
Booster whimpered as he climbed from his pack onto Clio’s shoulder. Nakamura and Clio both aimed their weapons.
She was about to pull the trigger when she noticed that the figure carried a bundle under one arm. Not a bundle. It was a little girl, no more than four years old.
Aegi Nakamura waved at Clio with his stump and signaled for her to lower her weapon.
She was relieved since she didn’t want to risk hitting the civilian. Clio wasn’t a great shot at the best of times, let alone with impaired vision.
Nakamura kept his rifle trained on the alien and silently took several steps closer to get a better shot.
The child looked up at them and screamed.
Booster answered in kind and squeezed his grip on Clio's shoulder, driving his claws through her tattered uniform and into her skin. She was in such shock the pain was barely noticeable.
The invader spun and reached for its stowed rifle, but Nakamura took a shot.
A spray of bullets to the chest knocked it back, and the girl let out another horrifying shriek.
Clio wanted to reach out to the child but was frozen helpless.
Nakamura fired another series of rounds, almost forced the enemy off its feet, but the bullets glanced off its armor, doing little damage.
The child reached out, and her shriek grew even louder. The sound twisted knots in Clio’s stomach.
She sprinted at the alien.
“Wait!” The Aegis cried.
The enemy turned and vaulted over the row of buildings to her left, and the child’s screams became muffled by distance until they were gone.
An animal-like sound tore from Clio’s throat, and Booster growled uneasily near her ear.
She hung her head as she fought back tears and noticed a teddy bear where the creature had stood only a moment before.
Is it the little girl’s?
The streets were strewn with rubble and litter, so there was no telling if it was already lying there before they arrived. Clio picked the toy up and held it at arm's length. A button eye hung loose on a strand of thread and stuffing poked through a tear in its stomach. She dusted it off and stowed it in her belt.
A hand on her shoulder shook her from the shock.
“There’s nothing we can do.”
Clio pushed Nakamura off.
“The hell there’s nothing we can do.” Even she was taken aback by the ferocity of her words. “We need to hunt down every mother-fucking last one of these things if it’s the last thing we do!”
Nakamura studied her for a moment then looked away. “We need to move. Can’t stay in the open like this. If that thing has friends nearby, they’ll have heard us.”
“Let them come.”
Heavy boots rattled around a nearby corner.
“Shit, get down.” He shoved her through a nearby doorway and launched a grenade in the direction of the enemy troops.
Smoke exploded everywhere.
