Omega Rising (14 page)

              "Is that a beer?"

              "That's seriously your only question?"

              "Yes."

              "Ok," Twingo chuckled, raising his free hand up in mock surrender. "Yes, the cooler is stocked with a few varieties of ales from a couple different worlds. I'm sure it's similar to what you have on your planet, fermenting sugars seems to be the first technological leap we all take together." Jason walked over to the bar, opened the cooler door, and peeked inside. Sure enough there were familiar bottles lined up, a little smaller than a twelve ounce bottle and with a different style cap, but beer bottles nonetheless.
Well, it can't be all that bad out here if they have beer.

Taking a long pull off the bottle, Jason tilted his head back and let the liquid play across his pallet. If he closed his eyes and didn't think at it too closely, it really did taste eerily similar to a Harp's Lager from Ireland back on Earth with a little more body to it and a slightly sweetish finish. He took another drink and let out a breath. "Ahh... I really did need that," he said, hoping the work the ship's medical bay did on him so he could eat would also work its magic with the alien brew.

A loud, keening screech startled Jason so badly he spilled some of the beer on his shirt. He wiped at it as he looked for the source of the odd noise.
What the fuck...
He spotted Twingo sitting at a computer terminal, his normally bluish hue was now a sickly pallor. He looked so agitated that Jason walked over to see what the issue was, unfortunately he couldn't read a single word on the screen. What he could see, however, were the images, and one of the four on the screen was of the gunship in flight over Breaker's World, its main engines at full power. Another was of Twingo. It looked like a mug shot so Jason assumed it must have been a photo from his employer or an ID database. "What's it say?" He asked, unable to hold back any longer.

              "I'm wanted for questioning in the deaths of three individuals and the escape of a Jepsen Aero DL7 gunship," he replied simply.

              "Well that's ridiculous. You were an innocent bystander," Jason said, placating his friend. "That should be easy enough to clear up."

              "You don't understand!" Twingo turned on him with an uncharacteristic ferocity, "Breaker's World is run by the cartels. They KNOW what happened, but they don't care. They want you guys and that ship, but all they have is a positive ID on me." He placed his head in his hands and started moaning. "I can't believe this." Jason didn't know what else to do, so he was surprised when Deetz came forward and placed a hand on Twingo's shoulder.

              "Maybe you should try to go lay down for a bit and clear your head. This is obviously about the cargo we were carrying, we can have Bondrass' people clear this up with the local cartels on Breaker's World," the synth said with what seemed to be genuine concern for the little engineer. Twingo simply nodded and plodded off to one of the rooms without a word. Once the door closed Deetz turned to Jason, "That's probably good advice for you too. I don't really know what's going on and I'd like to have you rested and alert when we find out." He looked pointedly at the half-empty bottle, "I'd really rather not have you intoxicated either."

              "Probably not a bad idea," Jason agreed without argument. He left the bottle on the bar and headed towards one of the other empty rooms, intent on a shower and then some sleep. 

              Jason awoke some time later, not knowing how long he had slept, to the sound of voices coming from the main room. One was clearly Deetz, and one was clearly not. He stayed still and concentrated, still unable to make out what was being said. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured under his breath, grabbing the translator earpiece off the table next to the bed. He stuffed it into his right ear, but by the time the little device had booted up the other, unidentified voice had left. Figuring there was no point in laying there any longer, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, pulling on his shirt. After multiple combat tours he slept in his pants and boots when he was in an unknown or potentially hostile environment, this counted as both in his book.

When Jason walked out into the main living area he saw Deetz sitting at the computer terminal reading documents at break-neck speed, Twingo was nowhere in sight, likely still sleeping. Deetz looked over at him and gestured to the larger sofa, “A gift for you. From Bondrass, or more likely his consigliere. We’re invited to dinner with him in three hours.”

              “An invitation would indicate we have the option to turn it down,” Jason said as he picked up what looked like two garment bags.

              “A poor choice of words perhaps. I should have said in three hours we WILL be dining with Bondrass at his pleasure. I’m assuming there is something along the lines of a job he’d like us to undertake,” Deetz replied as he turned back to the display. Jason was about to retort that he wasn’t aware there was an “us” in the equation, but bit the comment back and walked to his room with the larger of the garment bags.

The clothing was fairly straight forward, pants, shirts, and a banded collar jacket that went high up his neck. It was actually more elegantly simple than an Earthly suit and tie. What he was amazed, and suspicious, about was the tailoring; the clothes fit him absolutely perfectly in every way, the neck, inseam, and even the fact that his left shoulder was minutely lower than his right. He assumed he must have been scanned at some point while walking through Pinnacle Station, something his human sensibilities took offense to for some reason.

He walked back out of his room a short time later to see that Twingo’s door was still shut, but the other garment bag was missing. Deetz was sitting on the sofa watching what must have been a newscast on the largest display he had ever seen.
Why the hell does the machine bother sitting on the sofa?
He walked to the bar and grabbed another beer out of the cooler, ignoring the synth’s reproachful gaze.
Screw him. If I’m being forced to go along with this I’m going to do it relaxed.
He hadn’t felt any ill effects from the previous half a beer he had drank so now it was bottoms up. He apparently wasn’t the only one with a case of nerves as Twingo, emerging from his room resplendent in his new suit, walked straight to the bar without comment and grabbed a bottle of something off the shelf above the counter and poured a liberal amount into a glass. He fired the drink back, winced, and then repeated the process twice more before speaking to his companions. "How much longer?"

              "We've got about an hour and a half," Deetz said.

              "Seeing as how we're obviously not being treated like prisoners, do we really need to wait around to be collected by an underling?" Jason set his empty bottle back on the bar and stared at Deetz.

              "I'm not sure I follow you," he replied.

              "What I mean is this: can't we go early and wait for our host? I'd sort of like to get a view of the place before I have Bondrass' people watching my every move."

              "I know which establishment we're going to, so I suppose it's possible. We could wait in the lounge, I'm certain our movements will be monitored, but what you're suggesting may not be a bad idea." Deetz switched off the display and rose from the couch.

              "So there's really no way I can just stay here?" Twingo paled visibly now that the meeting with the crime boss went from being a hypothetical event in the future to a reality in the present.

              "You know the answer to that," Deetz said gently as he walked with Jason towards the door.

              "Try and relax a bit, Twingo. If a few peons like us were simply going to be killed I doubt we'd be getting dinner and gifts, unless this Bondrass is one sick bastard," Jason said, looking at Deetz, who just shrugged noncommittally.

              The restaurant they were heading to was three decks below them and along the outer edge of the hull, providing diners with spectacular starscapes as they ate. Nobody tried to stop them along their way, confirming that they were probably free to roam around the station somewhat without drawing the ire of Bondrass. They were seated at a table in the lounge and the two biological beings ordered drinks. All three settled in to watch the ebb and flow of the crowd and wait for their host.

The flurry of activity near the entrance was their first indication that the main event was about to kick off. Some oversized aliens of a species Jason had not yet seen led the way in, obviously point security by the way they scanned the crowd. A couple underlings walked in and then Bondrass appeared, all smiles and waves to the crowd, his shimmering black suit complimenting his olive green skin. He spotted the gunship crew and waved like they were old friends, making several patrons look at the trio with new interest. "Boys!" he boomed. "Starting without me? Let's all grab another drink before we head to our table." While his demeanor was bombastic and friendly, Jason could see through the act. It was more for the benefit of the other patrons in the lounge than to put them at ease.

A short while after Bondrass' arrival they were shown to their table. Only the boss and his right hand man joined them, the rest of the entourage mingled around in the lounge or posted up discreetly at the entrance. Once they had all ordered (Jason with the help of Deetz) things turned to business. "I don't always give my contractors the royal treatment like this," Bondrass started, taking a sip of what looked like a dark red wine. "But you've proven that you're able to overcome adversity and still remember who it is you work for. Frankly, I was surprised when you showed back up with my cargo completely intact. We've tested it and it wasn't tampered with in the least." Jason could tell they were on dangerous ground, he hoped Twingo would just keep his mouth shut and Deetz would find a graceful way to get them out of any future obligations to this guy. "What I was equally surprised at, Deetz, was the complete crew change. Not that I was especially partial to Klegsh, it was the ship I was hiring, but for a synth you've shown a remarkable self-preservation instinct and uncommonly good sense. No offense intended."

              "None taken, sir, and I thank you for the compliment. Of course it goes without saying that it never crossed my mind to try and cross you," Deetz said. Bondrass looked unimpressed with the synth's bootlicking.

              "Of course. Which brings me to the main point, as it were," Bondrass leaned back and took another drink. "I have an... opportunity... for you to make some serious cash for not a lot of work."

              "I'm listening," Deetz said eagerly.

              "I need some cargo and personnel moved fairly quickly from this station to another location, not on a planet. My ships are all too well known to be able to slip out of here without someone observing, but your vessel is virtually anonymous, save for that action on Breaker's World. You could get out of here with minimal effort and be done with the job within a matter of days, paid and on your way."

              "That sounds extremely generous, sir. Do you think it'd be possible for me to discuss this with my crew and give you an answer?"
Why is Deetz trying to back out of this all of the sudden? I figured I'd have to convince him not to take the job.

              "I suppose," Bondrass said, shifting irritably in his seat. "You should know, I would like to use you and your... crew... again, but all I really need is the ship. A DL7 isn't that difficult to pilot."
There it is... the offer we can't refuse.

             
"We'll take the job," Jason heard himself saying. Bondrass leaned back and smiled, Deetz looked at him sharply, and Twingo looked ready to faint.

              "Well, Commander Burke, that makes me very happy," Bondrass said. "Smart move. Of course, your crew is only three people, not nearly enough to manage that big gunship. I'll tell you what I'll do... I'm going to provide some of my own personnel to make sure the delivery goes smoothly. It's the least I can do."

I'll fucking bet.

              Once back in the suite, Jason had to fend off two very irate beings. "Why the hell did you jump in back there?" Deetz seemed more upset that Jason had usurped his authority than the prospect of working for Bondrass again.

              "We were supposed to be getting out of here! I want to leave!" Twingo's reaction was fear driven, and understandable. Jason was in no mood to coddle him though, he wanted to be done with this as much as anyone. He also wanted to be done with all the arguments about it.

              "If you'd both shut the FUCK up, I'll tell you," Jason roared, his tone broaching no argument. "You both heard him... he said all he needed was the ship, that was a direct threat. He'll TAKE that gunship parked down in the hanger, and when he does, what do you think our life expectancy looks like? You think we'll be allowed to just run out the clock in this luxury suite on his dime? We'll be dead before they even finish loading the cargo." They stared at him silently, contemplating what he had just said.

              "You're right," Twingo said softly. "We'll never be allowed to leave here alive unless we play his game." He blew his breath out noisily, "What do I care? I'm a wanted man on my home planet... which isn't even really my home planet. I've no one to care for, or to care for me, but I don't want to die here on this station. I guess I'm in for now."