Hunter Killer: Legacy Earth 7, page 10
“I’ve got a good angle on the town,” Mattias said. “Looks like it’s built on a grid, so I can cover you from almost anywhere.”
“Copy that,” Lance replied as they started down the dune. “Stay in contact over the translators, given the distance doesn’t short them.”
“Yes, sir,” Mattias replied.
Lance led Lincoln and Valdivia down the dune. The city sat several hundred yards ahead. Each step through the sand was heavy, causing the grains to flick into his boots. The breeze pierced his makeshift hood. It felt like a hair dryer on full power was held inches from his face. He squinted his eyes as they started to water from the wind.
The sun beat down on him mercilessly. His lips felt as if they were already cracking against the dry desert air. His throat and lungs burned from its heat. He turned back to see Valdivia and Lincoln powering through the obstacles as if it were a walk on the beach.
“You okay?” Lincoln asked as he pulled a canteen from under his layers. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“Save it; we may need it later,” Lance said, waving off the offer. “We’re not too far from the port. I’ll be able to get something there.”
As he spoke, Lance felt sand and grit swirl around in his mouth. He grimaced and tried to spit it out; nothing left his lips. An irritating tickle trickled down his back as beads of sweat rolled over his spine, only to be absorbed into his waistband.
Closing into the town, Lance’s heartbeat became shallow. His vision blurred from more than just the sweat that poured into his eyes. Wiping his brow, the captain focused himself. Once they entered the port, he made his way toward the nearest building. Stepping into the shade sent a wave of relief through him accompanied by a brief cold chill.
Exhaling, he forced himself to focus through eyes that tried to blur. Aliens, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in Alcazar space, and a few he had, walked here and there. Small stands dotted the streets made of dried wood and tattered cloth. Some were humanoid, others weren’t. They sold their wares to one another nonetheless.
Several humans, skin leathered by the sun, rode lizard-like creatures significantly larger than horses. Some shouted in English, others in alien languages. Lance watched each closely, observing how they walked, talked and behaved themselves.
“Come on,” Lance said, nodding deeper into the city. “If this is the market, then the saloon Vaxlor was recruited from is three blocks up and on the right.”
“Saloon?” Lincoln asked. “Easy there, cowboy, you’re going to make us stick out.”
His pupils flickered red several times as he looked over the citizens.
“And that won’t?” Lance asked.
“Your back and forth is going to get us caught,” Valdivia cut in before pushing past both men.
Lance and his brother locked eyes; they both shrugged in unison before following the Jarog. Moving through the streets, the captain attempted desperately to stick to the shade where it felt fifty degrees cooler, even though it was more like three. He kept close to his team as to not draw any more eyes, aside from those who watched the newcomers curiously.
Reaching the rusted-out, sand-caked building, Lance looked up to see an emblem of what looked like a serpent, wrapped around crossed daggers, biting its own tail. His contacts took several seconds to translate the name of the establishment before finally revealing “The Poisoned Dagger.”
“This is it,” Lance said.
Taking point once more, he approached the door. It didn’t automatically open. What looked like a handle was visible from the top of the frame. Lance’s gut told him to pull down. Grabbing it, he listened to his instincts. They were right. With an ear-piercing screech, it slid into the ground.
Pushing it until it was almost even, he stepped on it and looked at his team. Motioning them to enter, they obliged. As he followed, the hot air shifted to warm. As he stepped off the door, it let out another screech as it shot back up, sealing itself once more.
As Lance shook the sand out of his clothes, an eerie silence filled the room. He looked up to see several dozen men, women and creatures he couldn’t tell what they were staring at him and his two companions.
Holding a stern expression that’d make Clint Eastwood seem tame, the captain approached an oval bar in the center of the room. A being that looked like a distant cousin to the Svikari stood behind it with all four hands on the top. Brown scales covered him head to toe, accompanied by baggy, light clothing.
Lance reached into his satchel. He fiddled with the coin purse until he got it open and pulled out two small, metallic rectangles that were bronze with alien numbers stamped into them. He placed the miniature bullion on the bar top before locking eyes with the bartender, noticing a translator in his ear.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Lance said, unintentionally putting a low southern drawl to his words. “How ‘bout a round for our disturbance.”
The bartender looked at the currency. He reached out and took it before holding the two pieces up.
“This’ll hold a tab for two days,” he said. “Where’d you get money like this?”
“Some nosy mercenary came poking around our business,” Lance replied as Valdivia and Lincoln sat on one of the stools. “They’re six feet under, we’re quite a bit richer and now we’re looking for a person who can help us find supplies. We can make it worth your while.”
A tense silence filled the room. Lance held his breath as he yelled at himself internally about the stupid choice he made for his portrayal. The bartender cracked a smile and held up the money.
“Drinks on the new human!” he shouted followed by an eruption from the rest of the bar.
14
BRAWL
As all the patrons drank, an uneasiness settled into the captain. He’d just painted a target on their back showing that much money. How’d he let something as important as inquiring about currency slip his mind? Was this a side effect of having his enhancements stolen or was it from overheating?
As he looked at Lincoln, the cyborg sat down with a seat between them as Valdivia moved a little further down the bar. The man serving drinks placed a sloshing blue liquid in front of both humans. He looked Valdivia’s armor up and down and gave her something green.
“What else can I get you?” he asked as he continued to serve the rest of the bar, a drink in each of his four hands.
“I could go for a water if you have it,” Lance replied.
“With what you’re paying, you can afford it,” the bartender replied.
Lance picked up the blue liquid. He gave it a quick sniff as he noticed his brother down the drink in one shot with no expression. Putting his lips to the glass, he gave it a quick swig. A burning sensation filled his mouth. He forced the drink down. It set his esophagus on fire, even making his lungs burn.
It took all his will not to start coughing and hide his grimace. Several seconds later, another glass was placed in front of him. It was filled with murky, dirty water. He glanced up at the bartender to see if it was some sort of joke. The four-armed being didn’t take a second look at his customer and continued to serve others.
Looking around, Lance noticed several other beings, dressed in nicer than average clothes, had pitchers of the similar brownish liquid. The captain nodded, grabbed his glass, and started to drink. Sure enough, it was water. Warm, sandy water, but water nonetheless. He didn’t care about its granular texture as he chugged it. He was already dehydrated, and in that moment, it was satisfying.
“Another,” he ordered as he set his cup down. “Better make it a pitcher.”
Without missing a beat, the bartender pulled a pitcher of brown, murky, water and placed it on the bartop.
HSSS-CHUNK!
The bar’s door opened and closed, letting a new patron in. Lance turned to see a Perune in thick, heavy clothing with a scar that stretched from his lower left jaw, over a milky white eye and above his right brow. He drew a long, jagged blade from under his jacket and pointed it at the captain.
“I told you never to come back here!” he snarled as sparks flickered from his fingers, into the blade.
“I’ve never been to this dust ball before,” Lance countered, swiveling in his chair.
“You’re dressed differently, but I’ll never forget the man who gave me this.” He pointed to his scar.
Lance’s muscles tensed instinctively; his hand pumped three times out of habit. His nonexistent multi-tool didn’t react. The captain’s stomach dropped as he slid out of his chair. He stepped toward the eel -like alien by a half step and put his hands up to appear nonthreatening. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Valdivia sliding out of her seat but staying in place.
“I swear to you, this is a case of mistaken identity,” Lance said, raising his brow. “I hear that us humans all look alike since we’re the new guys in the galaxy. Myself and my mercenary team are good at finding people. Maybe if you tell me his name, we can find him for you, then you can give him a taste of your electric knife.”
“Your silver tongue won’t help you here. Uthuli Kings, kill this man!” he shouted.
Instantly, half the bar rose to their feet. The well-dressed grabbed their water and made a break for the door.
“Please, you don’t want to do this!” Lance insisted.
The Perune threw his knife at Lance. Without enough time to get out of the way, he took a half step back. The blade over-rotated just enough for its handle to hit the soldier. As it did, his muscles tightened as his mind went blank for a split second. A pulse of electricity coursed through his body.
Four of the beings on their feet charged at him as his senses returned. Lance opened his hand, placed it in front of him, and caught the knife. He spun it around in a reverse grip as Valdivia bulldozed her way through all four beings in a blur. The captain looked back at the Perune, who was itching for a fight. He threw the dagger away, sighed, shook his head and put up his fists as Lincoln engaged a group of three that tried to get involved.
“Fine, if you really want to do this, let’s do this,” he said.
Pulling off the cover Valdivia gave him, Lance wrapped it around his right hand as he recalled how Chadavia’s Perune team member moved. In a flash, the humanoid eel charged the captain.
As he got close, he struck at Lance with his massive jaws and extendable neck. Side-stepping, Lance barely dodged the attack. Grabbing the back of the Perune’s head with his covered hand, he slammed it into the bar.
Pins and needles shot through Lance’s hand, traveling through his forearm and leaving a dull, numbing pain in his funny bone. Stepping back, he shook his appendage. The wrap around his hand smoldered with small burn marks. He spun the wrap around as a foot kicked back and hit him in the gut.
Pain twisted throughout his stomach as the force of an attack he should’ve been able to dodge sent him reeling. Hitting a table, he caught himself as Lincoln and Valdivia threw brawlers this way and that. The bartender took a swipe at anyone who approached his wares.
Lance caught a glass full of blue liquid as it was about to spill. The Perune turned and charged at him again, this time swiping at him with massive hands. A year ago, this fight would’ve already been over; now he was struggling to keep a hair ahead of his attacker.
Dodging around a second swipe, Lance threw the drink into his opponent’s good eye. As the eel man roared, held his face and took a step back, the captain kicked out his back foot, throwing the aggressor off balance.
Once again, pain shot through his foot and leg, traveling to his knee before fading. Numbness nearly made him lose his footing as he placed his weight on his leg once more. Pressing his attack, Lance moved around to the left side and threw a punch into his opponents’ kidney.
A wild backhand he was too slow to register slammed into his face. Pain radiated through his cheek and into his right eye like sharp pins and needles. His vision blurred to a distracting amount.
As he closed the eye with corrupted vision, a loud BANG rang out. Lance’s shield flared to life as a bullet ricocheted around the bar. Everyone stopped to see the Perune pointing his weapon at Lance.
“HEY!” the captain barked. “This is a bar fight; no weapons!”
“You say you didn’t give me this scar and yet you’re the only one I’ve ever seen with that kind of shielding!” the Perune roared.
Lance reached behind him. He felt for the bar’s cool edge. Feeling it, he stepped toward it, knowing his shield could take less damage than the gun could deal. Thinking fast, he cracked a smile, wanting the brawler to close the distance as he felt the base of glass against his pinky.
“You’re right,” he sneered. “And if I had the chance, I’d have carved out your other eye too!”
The Perune let out a primal roar as he charged Lance. He pulled the trigger two more times. The first caused his shield to flare as the second broke the protective barrier, making his bullet fall straight to the ground.
As the Perune reached out to strangle Lance, sparks flying between his fingertips, Lance grabbed the pitcher of water and threw it into his opponent’s face. A sizzling sound filled the air as the aggressor’s body went limp. He hit the ground smoldering from shocking not only himself, but his clothing.
Once their leader dropped, the other fighters stopped. Lance looked at his brother, who held two by their throats and had a third pinned to a wall with his foot. Valdivia slammed a bottle into the head of the man she held in a head-lock before dropping his unconscious body.
“When facing a Pikachu, if you can get the first attack, use Blastoise,” Lance said, putting the pitcher down. “Now, does anyone want to tell me what he’s talking about?”
A slow, steady clap came from the far side of the bar. Emerging from behind cover was a woman in a fitted dress, pointed ears and feathery silver hair. Lance turned to see the woman, who inspected Lincoln, then Valdivia, then himself.
“Well, that’s a cliché,” Lance muttered as he faced the woman. “Who are you?”
“Nisan,” she said, looking at the unconscious bodies strewn across the floor. “And I represent a very powerful man in this port.”
“You mind telling us what kind of man he is?” Lincoln asked, throwing his fighters into the ground.
“The kind that could use mercenaries of your caliber,” she countered, looking at the unconscious Perune. “It’s not every day someone faces off with Quelock and survives, let alone wins.”
“I’m not looking to be anyone’s mercenary at the moment. I’m here to get some supplies to fix my ship,” Lance countered.
“That’s a shame,” Nisan said with a shrug as she made her way to the door. “His influence reaches around this world, he could get you whatever you need, for a small price.”
“And by small, I’m assuming you mean it’ll put us in debt to him for the rest of our lives?” Valdivia asked.
“Oh no, my dear, money isn’t as interesting to him as favors,” she said before motioning to the doors. “He’ll have a small favor to ask of you, and in return, he’ll grant you whatever you need.”
She opened the door and stepped outside. Lance looked at Lincoln. His older brother shook his head.
“Trusting women like that absolutely never ends well!” he said.
“Val, what’d you pick up off her?” Lance asked.
“I couldn’t get the slightest read on her,” she replied.
“You clearly aren’t the ones that messed up Quelock’s face,” the bartender chimed in. “If you were, you’d know that when Nisan makes an offer… it’s not a question, suggestion or an ask. It’s an order. And unless you want your crew, your ship and everyone you’ve ever met on this planet put in the sand, I’d suggest you follow her.”
“You’re really that concerned for our safety?” Lance asked as he rubbed his eye, his vision gradually returning.
“Not yours,” the bartender scoffed. “Mine! You met me. I don’t feel like early retirement just yet, so you’ll need to be following her.”
Lance shook his head before walking toward the door. He felt his eyelid twitching just under the surface, as well as the muscles in his forearm and his leg. He flexed his hand several times to get the sensation back to it. Grabbing the door’s handle he looked at his team.
“I guess we weren’t joking when we said hive of scum and villainy,” he said before pulling the door open. He set his foot on it so that it wouldn’t automatically shut on him. “Come on, guys, let’s go get this Jabba.”
15
CRIME LORD
“Mattias, watch our six,” Lance whispered through his translator. “If a Perune comes out of this bar and pursues us, take him down.”
“Copy that. Everything’s looking good on this end at the moment,” Mattias replied.
Lance looked either way down the street. Nisan stood in the shade ahead of them, looking at the bar doors. She waved for them to follow. The captain unwrapped his hand and threw his cover back on as he made his way slowly to her.
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Valdivia asked.
“For all we know, she’s the recruiter,” Lance whispered back. “Konner, you good to follow this a little further down the rabbit hole?”
“I am,” Lincoln replied. “But if we find the queen of hearts, we bail.”
“Affirmative,” Lance replied before smiling at Nisan as they stepped into the building’s shade as well. “We’ve decided to take you up on your offer.”
“I’m very pleased to hear this. And my master will be too,” she replied as she started down the road, further into the heart of the port. “I must say, aside from the Jarog, you, an unaltered human, are an anomaly.”
Lance’s heart skipped a beat. He hid his concern through a mask of confusion as he looked at the woman by his side.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“There are very few Jarog who are forced to stay in protective suits, even fewer that would leave their home world. And only one that would venture this far out of Alcazar space.” She turned and looked at the scratched-up suit. “Valdivia Aeger, if I’m not mistaken. I heard you were assigned to a SOAT vessel last, but that the ship, and its crew was destroyed in a space station attack. How did you survive?”
