Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy) (10 page)

Stepping inside caused the door to jingle and she walked over to the scrawny man behind the counter. He looked nervous to see officer Huckleberry in his empty store. Fox had never seen so many knickknacks and pieces of useless junk all in one place before. She whistled.

“You have something I need,” she said, emulating Huckleberry's drawl.

“But I already pay you earlier this month,” the man complained in a thick accent of his own. “Is too much for me right now, please.”

Time to move on it, she decided. “Then just give me that meta-chip ring you have in the back,” she said with a smile. The man's face went white, and he shook his head. “I know you got it back there.”

“No, Huckleberry. Cannot ask for that, please. You don't know who am holding it for. Is very dangerous for me talking about it, even.” His hand inched toward the back of the counter, and Fox had her pulse-gun trained on him right away.

“Hands where I can see 'em, Dorvak.”

“Is Dovriak,” the man muttered, clearly annoyed.

“Well, whatever. I just want that ring, an' you're gonna git it for me, aren'tcha?” Fox grinned, feeling the pudgy face pool around her mouth. Ugh, she thought. There cannot possibly be enough showers in the galaxy to make me feel clean after this.

Dovriak shook his head, and then nodded. “Fine,” he said, caving. “But if man comes looking for ring, I tell him was no choice for me, okay?” Fox rolled her eyes and lowered her gun.

“I don't care what you tell him as long as you give me the ring,” she said through gritted teeth.

Dovriak reached over and lifted a keycard from behind a tacky painting of cats playing clarinet, and led Fox to the safe in the wall of the back room. He opened it slowly, which irritated Fox, but Dovriak's hands were shaking, so she let it slide. She honestly felt somewhat bad for him. He was just on the wrong side of the situation, though. Nothing she could do about it without blowing her cover and the job.

The safe unlocked with a click, and Dovriak opened the door, revealing a paltry pile of gold, some credit bars and a small black box. Dovriak lifted it carefully from the safe, and turned around to hand it to Fox. There was a crashing sound from the front window, and both of them turned reflexively toward the noise.

Dovriak's limited cool was blown, and he bolted out the back door with a yelp. Fox sighed and searched the floor for the small black box, but cursed. The shopkeeper must have taken it with him! Frustrated, she checked her gun and ran after him, but was stopped in her tracks as a powerful pulse passed by in front of her through the open door to the shop front. It shredded the wall with a loud explosion of wood and plaster. Fox's ears were ringing, and she had to squint to see through the dusty debris.

She risked a glance around the corner toward the front of the shop, and saw a gaunt man with midnight skin level his pulse-rifle at her. Fox ducked back just in time to avoid losing her head, but caught shrapnel in her shoulder as the doorframe was ripped apart. She cursed, and winced as she touched the wound. Already sticky with blood. It would need attention soon, but for now, she had to push through the pain.

She took a few short breaths and made a break for it, letting out bursts of cover fire into the front room, and darted out the rear exit. Fox scrambled outside with a pounding sense of urgency. Times like this almost made her wish she was religious. Almost.

Then, as if some mystery deity had inexplicably decided to grant her an ironic miracle, she made it into the alleyway without being shot in the back. She heard coughing from behind her. Lucky break, she thought with a grin, but then stumbled over a piece of wood she hadn't noticed just a moment ago, and cursed. I have to pay more attention, Fox chided herself.

She scanned the alley and saw Dovriak running for all he was worth toward the street at the end of the alley, black box clenched tightly in his hand. He shrieked when he saw her. Fox slammed the heavy metal door shut behind her, hearing it click shut. She got out of the way just in time to avoid the door as another shot blasted it off its hinges across the alley.

She ran after Dovriak and leveled her gun at his back. She wheezed, upset that this body wasn't well conditioned for physical activity. She should've picked someone younger and faster, but authority figures were always so hard to pass up in situations like these. Still...

Fox took a shot but missed, and her blast ripped apart the wooden crate Dovriak ran past. Kark! The pawnbroker looked over his shoulder in panic, and picked up his pace. He started zigzagging, presumably to create a more difficult target. Fox laughed and shook her head, training her sights on him. He wouldn't get very far wasting his energy like that. It was almost sad to watch.

She surprised herself with a sudden show of mercy when she flipped the setting on her gun down to stun. “This soft heart of mine's gonna get me in trouble, someday,” she muttered as she pulled the trigger.

The pulse-blast caught Dovriak square in the back, and he cried out before he fell to the grimy flexiphalt like a wet bag of sand. Fox hoofed it over and rolled down into a fluffy squat to pick up the box, panting. As she held it up to inspect it under the noonday sun, she heard a voice growl from behind her, “Drop it! That's mine!”

“What, this ol' thing?” Fox asked as she turned around. It was the large black desperado, his pulse-rifle pointed right at her face.

“Too bad you had to get involved,” the man sneered from behind the snubbed barrel of his powerful weapon. “Now I'll have to deal with cleanup. Security, you understand.”

“Okay, fine,” she said, and tossed the box into the air between them. Distracted, the man lowered his weapon to catch the merchandise, and Fox took that moment to fire off a shot. She would've ended it right there, too, if he hadn't been so fast. He dodged to the side and caught the blast in his left shoulder, spinning to the ground with a grunt of pain.

“Yoink!” Fox laughed as she snatched up the box and took off toward the busy street at the end of the alley.

Then she had a stroke of inspiration. She was certain this bruiser would keep following her until she took care of it. This sector was busy, but it didn't have much respect for corrupt local authorities. As a result, she could count on being killed by this mysterioso in broad daylight if he got the opportunity.

Resting briefly at the corner of the alley, she waited just until the large man had time to look at her. Him. Officer Huckleberry. She waved and shouted a taunt at her pursuer, taking a shot at him before he could pick up his rifle. He rolled to the side and grabbed it, but she'd planned on that and was around the corner before he could bring his weapon to bear. She darted out onto the sidewalk.

This was going to be close, but she could do it. She got her flushing-serum ready mid-sprint. Oh, this was gonna hurt bad, but if it worked out it'd be worth the pain. “Pain beats dead every time,” she muttered.

Fox injected the flushing serum into her arm and felt it working immediately, her racing pulse accelerating the chemicals through her body. She felt nauseous, whether from the serum or running in this body, she wasn't certain, but she kept pushing herself. No second chances on this sort of thing. Fox sprinted around the corner of the block and across the street toward the real officer Huckleberry who sat asleep in his chair. She took out the metachip ring and threw the empty box at the sheriff, hitting him square in the chest. He woke up in a furor, perplexed and angry, but before he could see who'd done it, she was already inside the pub.

There were shots fired outside, and Fox knew her plan had worked- bait and switch. She breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't take time to relax. She needed to find somewhere private, and fast. In her haste past the bar, Fox ran into a bulky bear of a man, spilling half his brew onto his oily shirt.

“Sorry, officer,” a gristly older man apologized, helping maneuver his large friend back towards the bar. “Bluko's been drinkin' fer a spell. He don't mean no disrespect to the law.”

“Carry on,” Fox grunted with a nod, and quickly made her way toward the men's room, which was thankfully unoccupied.

Her hands trembled as she locked the door behind her, and her temperature kicked up a notch as her immune system went into overdrive. A sharp pain in her chest radiated outward like a knife through every part of her body, and she sank to the floor in a writhing ball of agony, wedged into the space between the toilet and the wall on the cold, wet tile.

Fox felt her teeth grinding as they shifted shape and position. Bones rearranged themselves under her skin, and her flesh pushed and squeezed itself back into place. Her tongue swelled up, gagging her before retracting enough to fit right again. She leaned to her right and vomited into the toilet. If there was anything that could possibly cause horribly debilitating pain to radiate within her, it was happening.

Then, all of a sudden, the grueling ordeal was over, and Fox was trembling on the cold floor. These unassisted flushes left her completely drained, but her focus returned to what she held in her clenched fist. Yes! The ring!

Finally, in a place where no one was shooting at her, Fox held up her golden prize to inspect it under the flicking fluorescent light of the privy. “This better be what I came here for,” she muttered, and slid the ring onto her thumb. It instantly began to upload its precious information to her earbud. As the files rushed in, Fox was surprised by what she saw.

It looked like she'd have to get herself to Altonas, a virtually uninhabited mountain-world. Her optical screen displayed the rotating image of her target, Raya Silverbane. Raya led a small dragon cult, and was beautiful enough to have been a real celebrity if that had been what interested her.

Raya had what Fox needed...evidence that could incriminate one or more high-ranking officials in the Brigadier Empire. As someone who lived at the border of uncharted territory, Raya had been trading intel with some unsavory characters, and had apparently managed to sink her claws into something juicy. It was Fox's job to retrieve and destroy the intel, whatever it was. The credit being offered was princely, and strong evidence that whoever placed this job had some serious political pull. Fox used her earbud to place a call over her secure private channel.

11

Stella and her friends boarded the shuttle at dawn, and watched their little bit of heaven recede until it was a dot of green lost in a sea of white. Then the stern pilot had snapped them into warp, and it was all left behind. Stella was going to miss their time with old John. He'd felt like a grandfather to her, but even so, she couldn't help but be grateful that she might see her father again soon.

Her thoughts wandered to the Garden Citadel. She wondered who John thought they'd know there. Stella hoped it would be her father, but didn't say that aloud, so as not to jinx it.

She looked at her friends and smiled. Rok was silhouetted against the spectral storm as he sat up front on the huge dashboard, talking with the captain, asking endless questions about everything, at least as far as Stella could determine. He was sneezing and coughing, which worried her, since he'd always been in perfect health before.

Then in the seat across from her, Mtumba was getting some rest, conked out since they'd come aboard. He hadn't slept much last night, and was making up for it now. He muttered something, shifting position, but Stella still couldn't understand the language. She shook her head and decided to go up front for a while. She heard Rok and the captain talking animatedly as she approached.

“Well, yes...” the trim older captain said as he looked at Rok. “Good point, but that's why we send out a reverse signal back into the warp. It cancels the active signal...there, you see that display?” Rok nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve as the man continued. “Otherwise you'd be right; this would be a one-way trip.” The man laughed, clearly impressed. “Where'd you go to school?”

When Rok saw Stella, he hopped off the dashboard to join her at the doorway. “Stella,” he whispered excitedly, “you're never gonna believe what Captain Rufus was telling me! This is all so cool!” He looked at her like an excited puppy. If puppies had bloodshot eyes and runny noses.

“Yeah.” She said grudgingly. “So, you wanna be a pilot when you grow up, then?”

“Oh yeah,” Rok smiled enthusiastically. “This stuff's amazing!” He couldn't seem to keep his attention on just one thing, though; his gaze wandered from one display to the next like other kids might look at a roomful of candy.

“Well, just make sure you remember the little people when you get all famous, okay?” she joked, jabbing him playfully on the shoulder. He looked at her in openmouthed confusion, but shrugged it off, electing instead to go back and immerse himself in the displays. Stella rolled her eyes, wishing he was more talkative, but Rok seemed mostly interested in how things worked. A budding engineer.