Dying World Page 9

  They were saluting him.

  Dag the Slayer rode proudly through that crowd, the adulation strengthening him the way sunlight straightened longrass. A fair number were old enough to remember when my dad had been on top, and those who weren’t recognized a man who’d just faced the depths and passed through them back into the light.

  I trailed in his wake, unnoticed, with Briff dutifully bringing up the rear. I noted that his eyes ceaselessly scanned the crowd, the way a proper rear guard should. Pity my dad didn’t see it.

  We followed Arcan into his back room, a place we’d caught glimpses of but had never been allowed to enter. A pair of comfortable hovercouches, their leather cracked and well used, but clean, bobbed up and down opposite each other, a large table set between them.

  That table had been forged from scrap metal, a panel from the outside of a frigate. It was at odds with the trophies lining the walls, ancient armor, or spellblades, and even a bulky G-141, one of the very earliest handheld railguns. I sensed a story there.

  Arcan plopped down on one of the couches, which sagged much more than it should have. I chalked that up to cybernetic implants. Arcan was probably as much machine as man, though beyond his cyber-eyes none of those augmentations were obvious.

  “Don’t make yourself comfortable. You aren’t staying.” Arcan eyed my dad coldly, then shifted that heavy stare to me. “I’ll honor my deal with your old man, but that doesn’t mean I have to go along with whatever crazy scheme you’re here for. Ariela is mine. I’m not parting with her. Consider her penance, Dag. And for depths sakes look me in the eye when you talk to me, kid.”

  “All right,” I said, willing the helmet to slither back into the armor. I waited until the process completed before speaking. To my surprise I had no trouble meeting his gaze. “You’re aware of the funnel going on northwest of here?”

  Arcan gave an almost imperceptible nod. “There are three more now. News is wondering if a fifth will pop up soon. They still have no idea what’s causing it.”

  “I do. And so does the ministry.” I strode over to the hovercouch, and peered down at him with as much confidence as I could muster. If I failed here, more than my life was at stake. “That comet destabilized our orbit. Our planet is drifting closer to the sun, and the gravitational pressure is literally tearing our planet apart. We have days. Maybe less.”

  Arcan’s only response was to lick his lips. He said nothing, just stared up at me from the couch.

  “That doesn’t concern you?” I finally asked.

  “Oh, it does.” Arcan folded well muscled arms, each crisscrossed with scars. “I still haven’t heard a question though, or anything about business.”

  “I can get us a ship,” I explained. I did my utmost to sound like a confident leader, though I’m not much of an actor. “It’s not heavily guarded, and if we come in fast and hot we can take it.”

  “You know where the Remora is?” Arcan sat up in the couch, his interest apparent. “All right, kid. You have my attention.”

  “I know where it is,” I agreed, elated that I had his interest. “I rode it back, and got a good look at the lurkers holding it. It wasn’t heavily defended, and there’s no way they’ve had a chance to sell it.”

  “Probably not,” Arcan allowed, relaxing into his couch as he resumed his shrewd business man exterior. “But they might have moved it. Or escaped with it.”

  I shook my head. I’d considered both options, and neither was likely. “Moving it takes fuel, and requires a second secure location. It requires crew, and worst of all…it can attract attention. These people are lurkers. They’re trying to fly under the scanner.”

  “But they do want to live,” Arcan pointed out, giving a triumphant half smile. “And that means the ship could be gone, which makes your intel suspect at best.”

  He had me there, and I hesitated as I struggled to find a way forward.

  My dad barked a short laugh, drawing everyone’s attention. He delivered that crooked smile, the champion smile, to Arcan. “It’s a better bet than the one I gave you. We all know you want to live, and while you’ve put away a few credits, I know you, Arcan. You don’t own a ship. Everything you own is about to go kaput, unless you find a way off this rock. Berths are about to get real pricy, I think.”

  “Maybe,” Arcan allowed, though his expression didn’t yield any ground. “Let’s say I’m interested in this intel. What outrageous cost do you have in mind?”

  “We’re going to have to take the ship from a squad of lurkers,” I explained, folding my arms in imitation of him. To my surprise I felt the muscles. It felt good. We could do this. “They have no idea we’re coming, and I want to maximize that advantage. I need you, and one other heavy to round out our squad.”

  “Squad?” Arcan barked a cruel laugh, the same kind I heard from my father on occasion. “You lot are not a squad. You’ve got a cripple, a fat dragon, and a scrawny fast-talking kid. Even if I brought the best heavy in the business it wouldn’t make up for you lot.”

  I glanced at my father, expecting him to come to our defense. Instead he merely watched me expectantly, as he should have, I realized. I was the squad leader. It was my job to deal with stuff like this.

  “I wasn’t finished,” I continued, meeting Arcan’s gaze without flinching, something I was quite proud of. Resisting the urge to look away wasn’t easy. “You’re going to outfit us. Briff needs a railgun, and we aren’t picky about what it is. Dad is going to be wielding Ariela, and you’re giving him a suit of NTM environmental armor, something we can customize. You might think we’re trash, but we are also your only hope of getting off this rock. Besides, if we’re as bad as you think, then after we take the ship you can just mutiny and take over, right?”

  No one laughed at that, though I’d meant it as a joke.

  “I’m not giving up Ariela.” Arcan rose to his feet, and now loomed over me. “I’m also not giving that waste of scales a railgun. Here’s what I will do…I’ll give your dad some armor, and a bottom of the line spellpistol. Something in need of maintenance. Your dragon can carry my G-141, and has my permission to gun down anything that attacks us. When we reach the ship he gives me my gun back. I will also provide a transport that will get us to the site where the Remora is stationed, and I will provide a real heavy, armed to the teeth.”

  “Wait a tick.” I forced a deep breath before speaking, because what I wanted to say would definitely end any chance we had at a deal. Instead, I aimed for reasonable. “So if I understand what you’re saying, you’ll give us one rusty pistol and one suit of basic armor. Then, when we reach the ship, we are unarmed against this heavy you’re bringing.”

  “Yeah, that’s the general idea.” I didn’t at all enjoy Arcan’s smile. “I can call her in right now. I know just the gal. Loyal. Deadly. And a survivor.”

  “So here’s the compromise,” I offered, knowing I’d have to give some ground. “You keep Ariela. That was my mistake, and you profited from it. But you meet the rest of the terms. You give my father and Briff the best weapons and armor available. You want this to succeed, right?”

  He hesitated and I realized I’d found the leverage I needed. Arcan was a survivor too, which was why he valued it so much in whoever this heavy was.

  “All right, you’ve got a deal.” He rested a hand on Ariela’s hilt, a jab at my father, and extended the other one to me.

  I accepted the handshake, and he made a point of trying to crush my hand. I was shocked to realize I could return the grip, and did so. His eyes widened in an incredibly gratifying way.

  “Partners,” I said. “Make no mistake though, Arcan. I’m calling the shots on this op.”

  Arcan gave an approving nod. “Your kid’s got balls, Dag.”

  “And I’m guessing your heavy is your kid?” my dad answered, his tone neutral.

  I’d never heard of Arcan having a daughter, and my dad had never mentioned it. I wondered why.

  “Yeah,” Arcan agreed. He hurried to the
back of the room, where another door stood behind a shelf. It wasn’t exactly secret, but it would be easily missed by anyone glancing into the room. “Come on. Let’s get loaded up, then I’ll introduce you to Rava. We’ll take her rover. How far away is this place?”

  “About six hours,” I grudgingly offered. He might be acting more friendly now that we’d made a deal, but Arcan stabbing us in the back wasn’t a matter of if.

  It was a matter of when.

  14

  One of the most important parts of leadership seemed to be jumping before everyone else jumped, so I started for the back door like I had some idea what I was doing. That prompted Arcan into motion, and the cybered merc led us through, into his storage bay.

  We descended a short flight of metal stairs, and rows of floodlights came on one by one as we entered the room. The walls were lined with gun cages, all filled with various weaponry and ordnance.

  Two six-wheeled rovers were parked next to each other, both battered, but in good repair. Each had the same matte black armor, which protected the cargo compartment in the rear of the vehicle.

  Gun slits lined all sides so that defenders could rotate to any point quickly, but they were too small to allow a grenade or micro-mine to be tossed through.

  One of the vehicles had an edge, though. A turret with a two-meter barrel was affixed to the top, and could be safely fired without exposing any of the crew. As expected, that was the one Arcan made for.

  As he approached, I spotted movement at the far end of the room, against the concrete wall. A woman in black leather pants and a matching jacket had her feet propped up on a crate, while she lounged back in her chair.

  Her attention was fixed on the holodisplay before her, the 3D images simulating the same combat arena I’d seen back at Briff’s. She played the team’s heavy, which meant she was in the rear.

  To my mild surprise, her character raised her spellcannon and lobbed a holographic ball of flame at an apparently empty spot. Just before the flame hit, an enemy scout moved into that position, and the fireball detonated all over their faceplate.

  The scout flickered, then disappeared from the match.

  “K-k-k-k-killing blow!” echoed throughout the room, the volume explaining why the woman hadn’t realized we were here yet.

  Arcan raised his wrist and tapped the controls on a sensor-bracelet. The holodisplay winked off, leaving the woman staring at empty space.

  “Do you have any idea what you just ruined?” She shot to her feet, and stalked several steps closer to Arcan, short raven locks bobbing on her shoulders as she moved…moved like a cat. In a way that suggested cybernetic enhancement. “I was about to win the quarterfinals. The prize—”

  “Our planet won’t be here next week,” Arcan snapped. He met his daughter’s glare kilo for kilo, then jerked a thumb at the rover with the turret. “We’re taking Betsy, and making a run for a ship before this whole planet shakes itself apart. Gear up, and zip the lip, kid.”

  “That’s it?” she growled as her eyes narrowed. Leather creaked as her hand wrapped around a spellpistol very similar to Ariela. “No explanation, just let’s go?”

  I was mostly fixated on the scene, but an amused snort from my dad drew my attention. He was staring at the woman in…pride? The kind of pride I’d always hoped he’d level in my direction. I raised an eyebrow, trying to understand.

  Who was she?

  “Okay, fine.” Arcan’s expression didn’t offer her a millimeter. “Everyone else, the mouthy one here is my daughter, Rava. Rava, this is everyone. Rava is going to drive the rover to the Remora’s LZ, then gun down the opposition so we can escape this planet before it blows.”

  “Glad to have you,” I found myself saying. I took a step closer and offered a hand. “My name’s Jerek, and this is my op.”

  “Your op?” She blinked at me in genuine surprise, which softened her expression and highlighted clear brown eyes. The same color as my eyes. And my dad’s. That was common enough not to occasion comment, but it still had me wondering.

  “Yeah,” Arcan reluctantly agreed. “Kid has intel on the ship, so we’ve agreed to give him lead until the ship is secured.”

  “All the same to me.” Rava offered a nonchalant shrug. “Just let me grab my holounit.” She waved a hand in the vague direction of Briff and me. “Either of you play? Single player is super boring, and I have a feeling Quantum is going to go down when the planet blows up.”

  “Uh,” Briff managed, his wings fluffing nervously behind him. “Yeah, I play. Looks like you run as a heavy though, and that’s the only role I know.”

  “That’s all right.” Rava delivered a crooked smile that made my heart sink, because I’d just seen it…on my dad’s face. “I can switch it up. I’m good at all roles.”

  I caught my dad’s attention, pointed at Rava, and glared.

  My dad whirred a little closer and shook his head. “Later. Now is not the time. Say nothing. Arcan doesn’t know. Neither does your mom, for that matter.”

  I kept my mouth shut, but inside I couldn’t disagree more strongly. Arcan’s hatred of my father seemed a little too intense for a botched op that had happened decades ago. No, this was a personal kind of hatred, and now I understood exactly what had caused it.

  “Briff, take the turret,” I ordered as Arcan opened the rover’s rear door. “Dad, Arcan, you’re in back. Rava, I’ll ride shotgun.”

  I’d often wondered at the origin of the term “ride shotgun”. A shotgun had the worst range and accuracy out of any weapon I’d used, and was the very last gun I’d want while firing out a passenger window.

  I moved around to the rover’s side, and climbed into the navigator’s seat next to Rava. She buckled into her harness with the efficiency of long practice, and fired up the rover’s fusion reactor.

  It was less efficient than fire magic, but since neither she nor her father were magically active, it was their only option.

  The rover lurched into motion, all six tires hugging the concrete as the metal gate rolled up into the ceiling at our approach. We passed under it, then out onto the main road outside Arcan’s shop.

  The panic hadn’t spread to much of the populace, at least that I could see. Traffic was beginning to thicken, though. And the sky had had grown awfully dark, despite the early hour.

  “This is going to take forever,” I muttered as I stared at the line of transports clogging both the street and the ramp leading onto the public freeway.

  Rava calmly opened a compartment behind her chair and withdrew a pair of sunglasses, which hummed with electronics as she perched them on the bridge of her nose. “So where is this place, exactly?”

  I considered my answer carefully. If I told her, I was giving up leverage. I decided trust was more important. “West of New Cairo, about a dozen clicks.”

  She nodded, and delivered another one of my father’s smiles. Her feet engaged the pedals, and the vehicle leapt into motion. Only…not toward the road.

  We bounced up over the curb, and into a trash-laden field that had accumulated at the base of the monorail. Rava expertly navigated around a wing fragment, then over the remains of a mech arm as we entered the scrapyard.

  I held on for dear life as the rover tilted into angles that I was sure would cause us to topple. They never did.

  “Inertia.” Rava gave a delighted laugh next to us. “You’re wondering how I can take these slopes, right?”

  “Erk,” was all I could manage as we went down a steep cliff toward a boulder field below.

  Rava suddenly accelerated, and the wheels clung to the rock face as we shot down the hillside. She jerked up with a whoop as we hit the boulder fields, and I tasted blood as I accidentally bit my tongue.

  We shot along at top speed, racing alongside the traffic on the freeway above us.

  “You know what, Rava?” I asked, smiling up at the traffic we weren’t in. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

  “Whatever you say, kid.” She gave a whoop as s
he accelerated again, loving the thrill in the same way my father did.

  15

  Most of the drive with Rava passed in silence. After the first few kilometers she was able to find an onramp that wasn’t clogged, and we got out ahead of the crowds.

  We hummed along, passing the exact same way I’d so recently come, but in reverse. This time I had a much better idea of what was going on, and much clearer goals.

  Among them was learning more about the armor, which I’d been avoiding because I’d had more pressing things to deal with. Now I could tinker with it guilt free, knowing there was nothing else in the world I should be focusing on.

  “Don’t mind me if I start muttering to myself,” I explained to Rava as I finally broke the silence. “I’m going to test a few things on my suit.”

  “Yeah, I was going to ask you about that.” Rava tapped the autopilot button, then shifted in her seat to face me.

  The way she moved made me absolutely positive she could snap my neck before I could draw my pistol. My new muscles suddenly felt a whole lot less impressive beside her cyberware.

  “I’ve never seen that make,” Rava continued. She touched my shoulder. “This polymer isn’t in use anywhere I’ve seen. Where did you get it?”

  “On a dreadnought.” I flinched back from her, though I couldn’t tell you why. I forced myself to relax, though I did notice her raised eyebrow. “It’s at least seventy millennia old, and it has some sort of magical intelligence. I haven’t figured out how to tap into it yet, but hopefully by the time we get there I’ll have a better idea.”

  “Okay, Cap.” Rava put her feet up on the dash. “I’m going to catch some zzz’s. Happy muttering.” She rested her head against the seat, and I kid you not, she started snoring instantly. I was genuinely impressed.

  “Well, here goes. Okay, armor, are you capable of voice communication? If so, please activate that now, and utilize the language I am speaking in.”