The Betwixt Book One

  Chapter 19

  There was a standoff in the corridor. A silent, careful, still, standoff as I stared at my previous employer. Marty? I couldn’t believe it. All these years of service, listening to his wild stories and lessons, making sure to follow his orders, and keeping his bar clean. All that, only to find out this.

  “What the—” I began.

  “Don’t say hell now, Mini; I wouldn’t want to shock the politeness right out of you. That’s one of the great things you’ve got going for you, sweetie – you’re nice, genuine about it too. You were a good kid to have behind the bar—”

  “You’re a mercenary,” I cut in, not about to stand by and listen to him recount the old days when the Commander and I were standing in the middle of a precarious situation. Jason still had his arms outstretched, guns pointed both at the Tarians and the Rain Man.

  “No.” Marty put up one thick finger, the one with the massive nick out of the top – a scar he’d proudly received from punching a Hantari right on its armor plated chest. “I’m a mercenary leader. Hell, I leave the running around and shooting to the Tarians; they seem to like that kind of stuff. No, me, I organize things, find targets, keep my ear to the ground, and follow the Central Credits.”

  “I trusted you—” I balled my hands up into fists. Not ordinary fists – not where I could feel my fingers dig into my palms or notice the pull of skin across my knuckles. No, these fists were too tight – all I could feel was the squeeze as the blood slowly left them.

  “No, sweetie, you didn’t trust me. You knew me – and before now, I’d never given you a reason to find me a threat. Knowing somebody ain’t trusting somebody. Take that as a lesson from a mercenary leader—”

  “Mini, who the hell is this guy?” Jason’s voice was strained, the electronic disturbance from his suit’s helmet making it crackle and spit.

  “Now, now, Commander – don’t interrupt. This is a reunion for Mini and me—”

  “Shut up. Drop your weapons, or I’ll shoot your friends.” The Commander tightened his grip on his assault rifle, which was still pointed in a straight, direct line at the Tarian Mercs in front of him. I could hear the almost inaudible hiss of his glove’s mechanics as the Commander’s fingers stretched back and forth across the trigger, the rest of the gun braced against his forearm.

  “No, you won’t. Standard operating procedure, Commander, states that in a situation where tactical—”

  “I know the SOP for this situation, but I’m going to default to shooting your ass instead.” Jason now turned fully to face Marty, tearing his gaze away from the Rain Man.

  Marty laughed, and it was the same as I remembered. He began with a sharp chuckle that ended with a strange hiccup that shook his chest up and down like someone had slammed into his belly with the butt of a gun. “You got balls, kid, you do. If this were any other circumstance, I’d be getting you a free drink. But, damn, all I got on me is this.” Marty reached into his pocket.

  Before my former employer could pull out whatever he had tucked away inside his standard navy-blue and white flight suit, the Commander had already fired.

  In moments that flashed by with snippets – fragments of confused action – I watched Jason fire his rifle at the Mercs in front of him, plow my way, and slam me to the side until he had us both up against the wall.

  Marty snatched the thing from his pocket and threw it our way with blinding speed.

  Jason put a hand flat on my chest, letting one of his guns tumble to the ground and clatter by my feet. He pushed me backward with enough strength to send me tumbling and rolling behind him, like an apple dropped from a speeding street cruiser.

  “Get—” he began, before the flash grenade went off.

  There was a pulse of electricity, a keening, high-pitched screech that cut through my hearing and sent me limp to the ground.

  The flash grenade overloaded my nervous system, sent a massive, momentary shock through my body that was more than enough to leave me paralyzed on the floor. I watched with open eyes, unable to close or blink them shut. The grenade had discharged right over the Commander, sending arcing blue electricity cascading through his suit. He clutched at it with his hands, as if he were trying to wipe it off, like the blue energy was some great hive of wasps that was attacking him limb by limb.

  I could tell he was in pain. He let out the most strangled of cries before dropping to one knee.

  “All the way down,” Marty spat, walking up to the Commander and placing a pulse pistol between Jason’s helmet and shoulders – right against his throat.

  The Commander didn’t fall to the ground, but nor did he rise.

  “Ha.” Marty had that false humor in his voice again, that light note of friendliness that I’d once admired about him. Except it was sickening now because I could see the real man behind it. “I would have thought my modified flash grenade would have done more than that to you, Commander. Hell, when I tested this on some unsuspecting space pirates, they had to be taken out in containers. Either your GAM armor is stronger than I remember, or you’ve got one hell of a point to prove.”

  The Commander was silent, his armor lifting up and down as he sucked in each raking breath. I could hear him inhale and exhale, the mic on his helmet obviously having been damaged in the blast and crackling like a rasp over metal.

  “Now, Mini.” Marty walked up to me – I could see his legs, but I was unable to move my eyes to track him further. His feet stopped an inch from my nose. “Sorry I had to do that to you, sweetie, but I don’t have a lot of time before the GAM come swanning in.” He turned away. “Well, would you look at that – I’ve never seen a Rain Man versus a flash grenade before.” Marty gave a harsh, cruel laugh. “I’d say the grenade wins – that’s one paralyzed pile of blue ants. Right – you take the girl – and I want four of you on the Commander. If he moves, so much as thinks about getting violent – shoot him.”

  Three arms reached toward me, pulling me up off the ground.

  I felt fear the likes of which I’d never experienced. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even blink. All I could do was see from my limited field of view, hear the breath of the Tarian against my ear, and feel the dead, uncontrollable paralysis of my body.

  I wanted to scream; I couldn’t. I wanted to run; I couldn’t. I wanted to see the Commander; I couldn’t. All I could see was the third arm of the Tarian looped up around my middle, pinning me to its chest as it walked me out of the airlock.

  The Mercs walked us along the corridor connecting the docked ships. There wasn’t another soul about, which was either a good or bad thing. I couldn’t bear the idea of coming across some kind alien family, only to have the Tarians shoot them on the spot. Then again, the fact there was no life along what should be a busy thoroughfare, was not a promising sign.

  “Ship isn’t too far now,” Marty said from somewhere in front of me. “Then the real fun will begin.” He chuckled again with the same note of unrestrained cruelty. I was starting to wonder if it had always been there, and whether I’d turned a blind ear to it.

  How could I not have seen this? How could I not have known what Marty truly was? A Tarian Mercenary leader? There must have been signs.

  My limited field of view kept jumping up and down as the Tarian who carried me walked, boots heavy and gait long. I could see a wall, the sudden green flash of a pot plant, then the wall again. More light filtered in as the wall abruptly gave way to a massive bank of windows.

  I could see bursts of the world below. The beauty of the almost set sun; the orange and deep purple of the clouds and the dark, star-pocked sky. I could even make out the buildings, the spires, the occasional glimpse of some rooftop cruiser bay with its red landing lights on full.

  We turned, and there was the unmistakable hiss of an airlock opening.

  “All aboard,” Marty droned. “Now, we’re going to have an interesting flight ahead of us, lots of things to see, places to go, and weapons to retrieve.”

  My sense of smell w
as starting to return, or perhaps it had never been compromised in the first place. It didn’t matter; all I cared about was the surprising, overpowering stench of the Tarian who still had me clutched to his chest as we entered through the airlock. I could smell a heady whirl of dried blood, acrid sweat, and caked filth. I wanted to slam a hand over my nostrils to block it out, or rip my nose right from my face, rather than have to smell it again.

  My sight began to go into overload. Though my field of view was still limited, my eyes still immobile, I started to see details more exquisite than ever before. I caught a flash of the ship’s corridor – I could see the finish of the gray paint splashed over the grainy metal surface. I could see a stain, some mark of grime between tiny bumps and imperfections on the wall’s surface. I could see it as if my face were pressed up against it, my eyes as close as they could be.

  I caught a glimpse of other things – the ceiling, the lights, the other Tarians, their armor, the milky whites of their eyes. I was seeing it all at once, keeping it all in my mind – all that detail, all those vivid colors, all those clear, perfect images.

  I felt like a computer scanner in meltdown – some visual software caught in an infinite loop of enhancing and zooming out.

  My arms, my legs, my body – they started to twitch, to flick back and forth like I was a puppet being shaken in a wild storm.

  The Tarian who held me swore. I could hear it so clearly, so accurately. It was as if he had shouted it to me in a music hall full of no other noise, acoustics set to amplify and intensify.

  “Dump her on the ground.” Marty’s voice had a note of worry, but it was almost indiscernible. He sounded too powerful, cruel, and completely in control.

  I hit the ground with a thump, which I heard like a train speeding through both of my ears. I felt the jolt through my limbs like a paper doll feels the drill of monsoon rains. I saw the ground before me with the close-up accuracy of a microscope.

  “Sirsh,” one of the Tarians said, “Wantsh ush to shedate hersh? Hurts hershelf, not goodsh for misshion.”

  “Damn it.” Marty walked over to me and leaned down, though he was too far out to be hindered by my thrashing limbs. “Maybe she’s had some kind of reaction to that modified grenade.”

  “What the hell have you done to her?” the Commander said, voice still crackling as his mic injected it with bursts of static and white noise.

  I couldn’t tell where he was, my overloaded senses shooting too much information at me at once. I could hear the exact brusque baritone of his voice, pick the exact pitch – but I couldn’t tell from which direction it came as it echoed back and forth in my mind.

  I clutched at my ears, able to move my arms, though they still shook and jolted like I was being continually and powerfully electrocuted.

  “She’s not human, you monster,” the Commander shouted again. “Who knows what kind of effect that grenade had on her physiology?”

  “The Commander has a point, though it’s an annoying one – get me a sedative, now.”

  I clutched at my eyes, at my ears, all over my face. I couldn’t block out the cacophony of sensations, the smells, the sights, the sounds, the feeling of every centimeter of my prickling skin.

  Someone grabbed my arm, their fingers digging into my wrist and yanking me up. Something quick and sharp pierced the skin at the nape of my neck. There was a final surge of sensation, which gently subsided into a hollow, numb nothingness.

  I flopped back onto the floor, only dimly, dimly aware of anything at all.

  “That’s done the trick. I thought the dosage might be too high, but it looks like she’s still with us. Her alien side’s obviously getting more dominant; that was enough to take down ten humans. Oh well, we live, and we learn.”

  Marty used to always say that.

  My thoughts were slow, dull, not really there. I felt like I was on the edge of sleep – one long, prolonged prelude to a deep, dreamless sleep.

  “The effects of the grenade should have subsided by now – I hope I haven’t fried her nervous system. It sure would be annoying to get this far only to have her—”

  “What—” the Commander began.

  “Commander,” Marty cut in, “Do you want to keep interrupting the leader of a Tarian Mercenary band while you’re about as vulnerable as a newborn Kroplin?”

  “You’re never going to get away with this.” The Commander’s voice was gradually becoming normal, the static subsiding to a low-level hiss.

  “No, and you’re never going to get the point. Oh, and someone get the Commander out of his armor before the stuff regenerates. I don’t want another firefight on my hands. Now excuse me, Mini, while I go and employ some evasive maneuvers to get us the hell off this planet before the GAM start breathing down our necks.”

  He walked off, leaving me limp on the floor. I knew this was one of the most important, most dangerous moments of my life. I couldn’t hold onto that thought, couldn’t keep the feeling of gravity, the sense of peril.

  I slipped off to sleep.

  …

  I awoke to find Marty leaning over me, his bald head glinting under the powerful blue lights embedded in the metal ceiling above. He had a smile on his face, the kind of false smile a used-cruiser salesman would use when he saw you walking across the ship-lot toward him.

  “Rise and shine, sweetie. We’ve got a lot of talking to do.” Marty’s smile didn’t shift for a second.

  I blinked at the lights, raising a hand over my eyes to block them out.

  “Now, no sudden movements, kid. You’re still under the effects of the sedatives, and the grenade, of course. You so much as try to do a star jump, and you’ll give yourself an aneurysm. Not to mention should you try your hand at heroics, we will give the Commander an aneurysm.”

  The Commander, Jason. I pulled myself up sharply, ignoring Marty’s words only to swoon back onto the bed as I lost all sense of balance, my head filling with thick fog.

  “What did I tell you, kid? Take it slowly.”

  Where was the Commander? Where had they taken him? What had they done to him? I tried to push myself up again, ignoring the nausea and pain, pushing through it until at last I sat up.

  “You’ve got a lot stronger since the last time I saw you, Mini. I still remember when I had to take you to the Med Bay when Claudia accidentally tripped you up – sixteen skin-stitches later and sixty Central Credits poorer, and I thought you were about as tough as under-set jelly. Now look at you – dodging Tarian fire, pushing through the pain, oh, and fighting Twixts. I’m kind of proud of you.” Marty’s grin widened until I could see more of his white, white teeth in that thick, heavy jaw.

  “Save it,” I managed through a deep breath. “Where is he?”

  “Wow, you actually care about him, don’t you? About time you found a boy, Mini. I was starting to worry about you—”

  “Where – is – he?” The words came out of my clenched jaw in bursts of mounting rage.

  Marty, I had trusted him. I’d trusted him.

  What an idiot I’d been. All these years and no inclining of his true nature. He’d been like a father to me.

  I stared back at him, despite my nausea and raging headache, with as much concentrated anger as I could muster.

  “Now, now – those aren’t kind eyes. Remember, I only hired you because you were nice. Well, that’s a lie. I only hired you because I knew who you were. You being nice sealed the deal—”

  “Shut up. What do you want anyway? Where’s the Commander? What have you done with him?”

  Marty stared at me, a private smile tugging at his mouth, his lips parting a millimeter to show the smallest section of his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth.

  He was trying to provoke me, trying to intimidate me – I could tell that. Still, watching that vicious smile take to his face was like watching the Commander being cut down with plasma fire.

  I tried to hide a shudder.

  “Mini, he’s fine, at least for the time bein
g. He’s all tied up in the brig right now but very much alive. In fact, he’ll be joining us in a minute. It’s time we have a nice chat.”

  With his arm around mine, partly to stop me from falling and partly to fix me in place, Marty led me out of the med bay and back along the corridor to the bridge. As I stumbled along, my limbs still weak and uncoordinated, I tried to take in as much of the scene as I could. There were Tarians standing around, checking consoles, presumably flying the ship, or just leaning against the bulkheads cleaning their weapons. It looked like a setup, like someone had engineered the scene to make it as maximally intimidating as possible. Surely, there was a better place to scrape the blood off the magazine of your assault rifle than the center of the command deck? Why couldn’t they do that in their quarters, or the weapons range, or even the mess hall? Wouldn’t they get in someone’s way?

  As I looked around, I started to realize that this ship couldn’t be that big. Maybe it was only one deck with a corridor and a handful of branching rooms? Weren’t these Tarian Mercenary bands supposed to be elite, fast groups ideal for snatch-and-grab scenarios? Would they have a GAM-sized cruiser at their disposal?

  “Take it all in, Mini, because this is what all your hard work at the diner went into funding. Well, not all of it; this mercenary business has a habit of funding itself after a while. The diner is a good earner too – it’s a handy place to listen for rumors, find out hits, and generally mingle with space scum.”

  I used up most of my strength to turn to him, to drop my lips open, my gaze dead and cold. “You think—” but I stopped, because a surge of energy pulsed through me.

  They brought the Commander in, though dragged him was a better term.

  “Jason!” I screamed, pulling away from Marty and rushing over to him. “Jason, Jason, Jason, are you okay?” I kept saying his name, over and over again – as if its mere repetition would bring the color back to his sallow skin.

  He looked up at me. Though his body was limp, his face was in control. “You alright?”

  I nodded so quick my neck gave a click, my head still swimming with the acute nausea of my fatigue. “I—”

  “Hold in there—”

  “Look, this is touching, but I’m on a schedule here.” Marty walked over to me, crossing his arms like the Commander would have done.

  I reached out an arm to Jason. I wanted to take his jaw with my hand, to alleviate some of the pressure that was running through his strained neck.

  Marty ducked down and grabbed my arm, pulling it back.

  “Like I said, I don’t have the time. This way.” Marty pulled me to my feet and marched me across the room. He nodded at the Tarian in front of some console. “Pull up the file. Confirm status of the light cruiser too; I don’t want to make it all the way to the Dark Rift only to find out she’s out of fuel.”

  “Yesh.” The Tarian drooled as his hands clunked across the console, his third hand taking the time to scratch some itch on his stomach.

  “The Dark Rift?” I repeated, surprise obvious. “Wh- why are you taking this ship there? It will get pulled apart.”

  “That’s where our weapons are. Yes, this ship would get pulled apart – that’s why we aren’t taking her. No, we’re taking your ship.”

  “My ship?” I tried to pull free of his grip, his fingers starting to eat into my wrist like hot barbed wire. “I don’t have a ship.”

  “Yes, you do.” He let me go, though threw my arm free was more accurate.

  I found my balance, propping myself against a console, and rubbed at my wrist. I was free, except I wasn’t. Marty knew I was in no condition to fight. One quick step, and I’d fall back to the ground, a puddle of nauseated fatigue.

  “It’s the ship you came in on, sweetie.” Marty turned to the console to key something in.

  “I don’t… I don’t get it—” I began.

  I heard Jason make a noise from behind me.

  “He gets it, but you don’t. It’s the same light cruiser you were brought to Station One with, Mini, all those years ago.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got it.” Marty looked cocky, uncontrollably proud of himself.

  “How did you… how did the GAM give it up?”

  “Oh, they didn’t, not technically. I had to steal it from Central Space Dock – but it was worth it.”

  “You stole a ship from Central Space Dock?” the Commander asked, and despite everything, his voice was still as strong as ever.

  Marty laughed. “Cool, ha? I can’t take all the credit – GAM wasn’t even protecting it. The security was lighter than one of my lemon meringue pies. You see, they didn’t know what they had – thought it was a piece of space junk they had to keep for the sake of records and paperwork. They had no idea—”

  “What do you mean? Wouldn’t they have scanned that ship? Wouldn’t they have bothered to check it over once a child had arrived in it on their doorstep?” My words were quick, breathy.

  “Oh, they did. Well, I did. You see, Mini, I was one of the technicians who first found you. In fact, it was me who first scanned that ship. It was me who popped you out of the stasis pod. Hell, it was me who called you Mini.”

  I recoiled from him, feeling colder than absolute zero at the idea Marty had been so involved in my beginnings.

  “You wiped the files,” Jason said, voice still too clear for a man who lay limp between his captors’ grips. He was obviously diverting all his strength to the only thing he had left. Not that he had even a chance of talking Marty down.

  “No,” Marty clicked his fingers in Jason’s direction, “But good guess. I encrypted them. I couldn’t wipe them because they were too valuable. I sure as hell couldn’t copy them off; they were too large and would have taken too long. So I encrypted them, buried them in the ship’s computer banks, and left them there. I was the officer in charge, so when I said the computer was clean, people believed me. Still, GAM bureaucracy stated the ship had to be kept for the sake of records, so when I put in a tender for it – they denied me. They just towed her to Central Docks and let her rot. I wasn’t about to give up, not without a fight. It took me years to build up the money, the strength, the connections to spring that ship. It is all going to be worth it, come pay day.”

  “You waited until you could steal it back?” Jason lifted his head to face Marty, the strain evident across the throbbing veins of his forehead. “What the hell was in those files that made you commit treason, made you turn on the GAM – made you steal from us?”

  “Treason?” Marty looked thoughtful. “You know, I’d never thought of it that way. I’d always considered it an ordinary crime. Now you’ve pointed it out, I can see where you’re going. If I hadn’t encrypted what was in those data banks, well, let’s say that the GAM would have different priorities right now.”

  “Wait, but what was on the ship’s computer? What was in those files you waited years for?” I asked.

  Marty turned to me, stepping closer until I could see the light glinting off his gray eyes. “You really want to know, Mini?”

  I wanted to recoil, but I held my ground. “Yes,” I said as firmly as my voice would allow.

  “Alright, I’ll show you.”