On Galaxy's Edge: Ascendance (18 page)

“Everyone good?” Nero said into the comm unit. He got affirmative responses from Nate and Talyah. “Look for survivors,” he continued.

They didn’t have long to wait. A large part of the building had collapsed into the underground cavern, but with the dust clearing, they could see a few areas were still standing. This included one area near Nero’s team, out of which stumbled a few heavily-armed Nostra. Nero smiled. “Looks like we might yet have some fun, Nate,” he said into the comm unit.

“Don’t be a tease, man,” came the response. “I haven’t got anyone over here yet.”

It looked like ten Nostra had made it from Nero’s part of the building. But the number didn’t matter. Nero, Jerad, Onon, Abia and Cauld calmly walked forward to meet them, laser rifles out and aimed at the Nostra aliens. When they were close enough to be noticed, they opened fire, punching numerous holes in the bodies of the aliens. They fell before they even raised their weapons.

At the other end of the building, Talyah’s team walked forward to meet a few survivors, and at the rear, Nate brought his team into the building, finding a few aliens still breathing, but unconscious. Their breathing was promptly halted.

****

“What happened, Nero? We were meant to meet nearly an hour ago.” Ami looked at the timepiece on the wall, as if to emphasize her point. They were sat in a private booth in a club, in the basement of one of the Scrapers. It was a club where the only access was from the Scraper above, and as Nero was becoming accustomed to, it was filled with a different sort of clientele than he was used to.

“And what happened to you?” she added, looking back at Nero.

“What do you mean, Ami?” Nero took a sip of his drink, the heady fumes helping him to forget about the day’s events.

“I mean,” she said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper, “is that blood on your arm?”

Nero looked down at the arm she indicated, noticing a few spots of blood on his clothes. He hadn’t noticed them before. “Oh, it’s nothing Ami,” he said, half-heartedly trying to brush the spots of alien blood away. It didn’t work.

She didn’t look convinced at his explanation. “Look,” he continued, “it’s probably best you don’t ask me about it, okay? You might not like the answer.”

For whatever reason, she didn’t ask any more questions, but instead settled down into an uncomfortable silence. Nero took another sip of his drink.

A couple of minutes passed, before he tried speaking again. “On another note, Ami, you mentioned your brother was having problems the other day?”

“With the Nostra? Yes, I remember, Nero.”

“Well, he shouldn’t be bothered anymore. Not for some time, anyway.”

“You...?” she looked at him askance, not knowing what to say.

Nero just nodded, finishing the last of his drink. He ordered another from the holodisplay in the wall of their booth, getting Ami another drink as well.

“Pill?” he offered, changing the subject. Hesitating only momentarily, she smiled as she took one of the proffered red pills, and Nero took one for himself. They popped them into their mouths, washing them down with a drink, and let the club’s bass-heavy music wash over them. It was the small hours of the morning before they left the club, to return to Ami’s apartment high up in the Scraper.

****

The rubble shifted, small pieces tumbling down the small mound in the darkness. Larger pieces began to move too, until a hand - the skin pitch black in colour - broke through the rubble. An arm followed, and eventually the entire body of the vacso was free. Its tough skin was broken in many places, leaking dark blood out onto the stones, but it was alive.

It looked around, at the devastation surrounding it. It knew who was responsible for this, and it knew that they would pay. But not yet. The alien wasn’t stupid. It knew it had taken a big defeat, and would need help. And it knew just where that help would come from.

Taking a final look around the remains of its headquarters, the alien walked off, over the rubble until it reached a street. From there, it navigated its way through the various alleys and streets that finally led to a small deserted shack. The alien ran its finger along a particular piece of metal, which was followed by a slight hissing sound. A deep clunk followed that, and then the small shack appeared to fall apart. The roof split in two, and retracted into the walls, which in turn vanished into the ground.

What was left when the shack had disappeared was a ship. It was a small one, only a single-seater, but it looked fast. The canopy of the ship opened when the alien stepped nearer, and it leapt up into the cockpit, in a graceful move that would have been impossible for any human.

Before it fired up the engines, it retrieved a small cube from an inner pocket. It was entirely unremarkable, except that it was made of carbon, and had a strange, almost-triangular symbol on one side. In the alien’s hand, however, the symbol immediately lit up a deep red in colour. It pressed the symbol, and a haunting voice filled the ship’s cockpit. The alien didn’t intimidate easily, but this voice sent chills down its spine.

“Why do you contact us?” the voice said, booming out of the small cube.

“I think we may be able to help each other. I have some information for you,” the alien said, an unmistakable note of fear in its voice. It was a moment before the booming voice answered.

“Very well,” it said. “We are listening.”

As the alien outlined its information, it turned on the ship’s engines, and accelerated hard into the night sky, flying through the layers of atmosphere and out into the blackness of space.

-- PART TWO --

CHAPTER EIGHT

FREIGHTER

Three years later

Time passed, and things changed. The first thing Nero had done after the Nostra had attacked his cave was to find a new base. One that was actually in the city, and easier to get to. He had also bought, with money, an apartment in a Scraper. It had been less effort than he had thought. It had basically involved handing over a large quantity of bonds to the building’s owner, who then didn’t perform any checks on Nero. Currently, however, he was to be found in the new headquarters, the latest delivery of qiameth having just turned up.

“Shit!” came Nate’s voice from across the room, which was shortly followed by him sticking his finger into his mouth, and then jumping around on the spot. Everyone around him started laughing uproariously, which earned them all dark looks in return. Nero wandered over to see what Nate had managed to do, giving him an inquiring look as he stood in front of him.

“Oh, don’t just stand there, Nero,” Nate said, taking his finger out of his mouth for just long enough to speak. “You could get me a bandage.” Nero, grinning, sent one of the other guys off to get one as he stayed with Nate.

“You know, you really should be more careful with this packaging, Nate. I didn’t think I needed to warn you that metal can be sharp, but evidently...”

“I was just checking that it was sharp, actually. And it is. So now we know, okay?”

“Right...”

Nate took his finger out of his mouth, and sighed. “Do you miss the old jobs we used to do, Nero? Breaking into a Scraper, stealing shipments, that sort of thing? That was fun. This...” he said, gesturing to the packages of qiameth, “this is just admin work. Profitable, yeah, but oh-my-god it’s dull.”

“It has its moments, Nate, and there’s a hell of a lot of money in it. But I know what you mean. I’ve been thinking about the old days recently.”

“Got any plans in mind?”

Nero smiled. “I may do, Nate. I may do. But for now, we need to get these sent off,” he said, indicating the packages of drugs. “Assuming you can use your hand, of course.”

“Don’t you worry about my hand. I can still do amazing things with this hand.”

“I’m sure you can. But let’s not go into any detail.”

Nate grinned as Nero walked away, back to supervise the different distributors’ allocations. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but he liked to be involved in the little things.

****

She watched the water flow under her feet, beneath the layer of transparent glass on which her chair sat. It was strange to watch such a large quantity of water, though she found it very peaceful. That was why she always chose this restaurant, when she could.

“Miss Martano?” came a voice from what seemed like a vast distance. “Ami?”

The voice shook her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see her waiter, dressed in his finery, standing beside her table. He had already put down another drink on the table.

“Would you like to order?”

Ami glanced at her timepiece. Forty minutes late. “I shall give him a few more minutes, I think,” she said, giving the waiter a half-hearted smile.

“Certainly, signora,” the waiter replied. “Do let me know when you are ready.”

Ami watched as the man walked away, to attend to another table. The restaurant was almost full at this time, couples sat opposite each other, staring into each others’ faces. She looked away, up at the grand chandelier that hovered in the centre of the room.

It was another fifteen minutes before he finally turned up.

“Ami!” Nero smiled as he walked up, as if nothing was wrong. Ami just looked up at him, staying sat in her seat.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, taking the seat opposite her, and having a look at the virtual menu displayed on the table. It was just a formality; he already knew what he’d order.

“‘What’s the matter?’” Ami quoted back. “You do realise you’re nearly an hour late? Again.” Nero glanced up at the almost-transparent holodisplay over his eyes, at the time in the corner.

“I’m sorry, Ami. I didn’t realise what the time was. Here, let me get you a drink,” he said, looking around for the waiter.

“Look at me, Nero,” Ami said, with more force in her voice than usual. Nero looked. “You can’t just turn up late to everything, treat me as if I’m not important, and just expect to buy me a drink, or a piece of jewellery, and expect me to forget everything. It doesn’t work that way.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Ami. I don’t mean to ignore you. But I’ve got a lot on at the moment. There’s a big opportunity coming up soon, and it’s taking a lot of planning, and I need to supervise things. When that’s over though, maybe I’ll be a bit less busy. We could visit another planet, perhaps? You’re always saying you want to travel.”

“You’ve said that before, Nero. But something else always comes up. Or you come back from god-knows-where, with blood on you, and in a foul mood, and refuse to talk. I don’t know who you are, Nero. We’ve been together for, what, four years now? And I hardly know anything about you. I don’t know what you do for a living. I don’t know where you go in the day. I don’t know where you go when you disappear for a week at a time.”

Nero glanced around the room, uncomfortable with this line of questioning. He looked back into her eyes. “You must have an idea what I do, Ami. And you also know it’s best you don’t know too much. It’s for your own good. I don’t want any harm to come to you.”

“And there’s that excuse again. Can’t you tell me anything Nero? There’s nothing you can tell me?”

“Look, what do you really want to know, Ami? What’s this really about?”

“What’s it really about? I don’t know you Nero! You buy me nice things, when you turn up, and that’s it. I don’t even know who your parents are, Nero.”

Nero looked down at the table, contemplating what to tell her. He knew he needed to give her something, but so many years of not letting anyone in was a difficult habit to break. “I grew up with my mother,” he finally said, still not looking directly at Ami. He idly picked up an empty glass on the table. “We had a small place, in the city. It wasn’t much, but it was all I knew. We didn’t have much food, or much of anything, really, but we got by. My mother always told me how lucky we were, to have a place like ours. I never believed her, always hated the place, but I can understand what she meant.” He stopped.

“Go on,” Ami prompted, when the pause dragged out.

“Well, one day, I came back from getting food. And I entered the house. And she was dead. On the floor, in a pool of her own blood. I had to leave, then, ‘cos I was still too young to defend myself. But I was old enough to understand that. So I did, and that was that for family life.”

“Oh, Nero,” Ami said. “I’m sorry. But where was your father?”

“My father?” Nero said. “Dead. Long gone. I never knew him. My mother said he was killed shortly after I was born. Got into a fight with some gang members, and they killed him.” He shrugged. “So there’s the fascinating story of my life. Fun, wasn’t it?”

Ami watched Nero, the pain still evident on his face, try as he might to hide it. “You know, Nero, I don’t believe I ever told you about my childhood.” He looked up at her. “My mother died when she gave birth to me, so I never knew her. I was raised by my father, instead. Now, this was a man who never expected to have to raise a child on his own, and I think he blamed me - maybe subconsciously - for what happened to my mother. So he was a very tough father. If I didn’t finish my work on time, or to a high enough standard, he’d beat me. And if I wasn’t up in the early hours of the morning, in the exercise room, he’d beat me. And if he was just in a bad mood, he’d beat me.

“I couldn’t wait to leave home, and him, to be honest. I got my own apartment when I was sixteen, in a different Scraper, and I’ve never been back to my old home. It’s difficult to never see him, though. He’s Governatore of the city, so if there’s one person you can’t avoid talk of, it’s him. And it means if he wants to see me, he will see me. He’s pretty busy with his job most of the time, though, so thankfully it’s a rare event when he wants to see me.”

Governatore of the city. Nero raised his eyebrows, amazed that Ami had never mentioned that before. The Governatore essentially ruled the city, or at least the elements that were willing to be governed, and was one of the most powerful figures on the planet. “I never knew that,” he said, at a momentary loss for words.

“Don’t worry, Nero, I won’t mention you to him. Not that I know what it is you do, anyway,” she said, a faint smile on her lips.

The waiter returned at that moment, to ask if they wanted anything to eat. Nero ordered his usual orange protein mousse, with slices of real vegetable, whilst Ami had some fruit. They settled down, determined to enjoy the evening, and Nero offered Ami a red pill. She refused, but Nero was already starting to feel the slight pangs of withdrawal, so he slipped a couple into his mouth. Immediately, the world became a little brighter, and a little clearer.

****

Abia walked along the street, under the harsh lighting cast down from the one of the nearby Scrapers. He had his head down, trying not to attract too much notice. This wasn’t the sort of area you wanted to stand out in. He glanced up the street, thankfully seeing only a few people around. There were no big gangs around, waiting on the street corners.

After making his way through a few alleys and larger streets, he came upon a particularly run-down building, squatting at the side of the street, looking like it could collapse at any moment. Abia paused at the doorway, and shrugged to himself. This was the correct place, with the illuminated letters above the door proclaiming it to be ‘Z’s Finest Bar and Club’. Abia could think of a few other examples of clubs that topped this place, but he wasn’t about to mention that to whoever owned this place.

He stepped inside, and was hit by a smell that only manages to exist in places that are very rarely cleaned. It didn’t look too bad, though, mainly because the lighting was set so dimly that it was hard to see anything. Abia made his way over to the bar, and ordered a drink, not really caring what particular variety he got. As long as it came with a kick.

The bar was pretty deserted, with just a few patrons sat on their own, either at a table or on a bench seat by themselves. Most wore clothes that couldn’t really be called clothes anymore. Rags would have been a better description, and Abia began to wonder whether the smell actually came from these people, rather than the bar itself.

The barkeeping machine delivered Abia his drink. It was a small glass, filled with a thick yellow liquid. It looked interesting to Abia, and besides, a drink was a drink. He downed it in one, just managing not to shudder. He returned the glass to the bar, for it to be removed by the automated machine.

One of the customers in the place stood out from the others, mainly on account of his clothes, which were fine enough to draw notice. He was sat at a table, nursing a large drink as if it provided some sort of protection from the other customers, and kept looking around, as if he really didn’t want to be in a place like this. His back was ramrod straight, giving him an entirely uncomfortable air. Abia smirked, and walked over to the man.

“I guess you would be my contact then, mate,” Abia said by way of greeting, giving the man a very obvious once-over. The man looked at Abia, a mixture of contempt and nervousness managing to fill his eyes at the same time.

“That would make you this ‘Abia’ chap then, would it?” he said, pronouncing his words very clearly. Whether this was for Abia’s benefit, or was just how he normally spoke, Abia couldn’t say.

“It would indeed my friend. Mind if I take a seat?” Abia sat down without waiting for an answer. “So, I hear you have some information for us.”

“Yes, I do have some information for you. But...”

“But you want paying first,” Abia said, finishing the man’s sentence for him. “Fair enough. Here’s a taster - you get the rest once I’ve heard your information.” He handed the man a small pouch of bonds, which the man quickly looked at before secreting it below the table.

“Well, you know I work in the Governatore’s office.” Abia nodded. “And all the talk recently has been regarding a large shipment of new medical supplies and augmentations, direct from the central systems. I understand that a lot of these have only just been developed, and are a huge improvement on what we have already. They are worth a huge amount to the governing body. And they are also worth a lot of money.”

“Which is where we come in,” Abia said with a slightly sinister smile.

“Quite. The supplies are being delivered in exactly one week’s time, but they are not going to be delivered to the spaceport, as usual. Instead, because of the high-value nature of the cargo, the ship will not land, and will instead hover over one of the Scrapers. Don’t ask me which, because I don’t know yet. In the top of this Scraper is a vast safe, taking up the top few floors of the building. The cargo will be transferred directly from the ship, into this safe.

“Once in the safe, it will then be protected by half-metre thick metal walls, and security guards will stand outside the entrances at all times. Inside the vault are a number of security systems, the details of which I am not privy to. So there you have it. I hope that was useful.”

“What time will the ship be due to arrive?” Abia asked.

“Four in the morning. And it will be protected almost as well as the vault will be. Teams of security guards, and maybe even an escort.”

“Well, that sounds like a fun challenge. I thank you for your time,” Abia said, retrieving the second pouch of money for the bent official. “Buy yourself another drink, stick around here for a bit. I hear it really livens up later.”

“I think not,” the other man said, taking the money and standing up. Once he’d checked the money was there, he veritably ran out of the bar, heading back to his cosy life of luxury in the Scrapers. Abia sighed. He’d never met a Scraper person whom he could stand for more than a few minutes. And this one hadn’t been any different. Just as disdainful as the rest.

He got up, and headed towards the door himself, pleased to be getting away from the smell himself.