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Urban Renewal

Chris Kennedy


The door opened silently, and if the motion hadn’t caught my attention, I wouldn’t have seen him enter. My stomach dropped as I watched him from the corner of my eye. The man was nondescript, but in such a way that it had to be feigned. No one was that unremarkable . . . except someone well trained to be. The oversized jacket hid the muscles I knew were there.

“I hope you didn’t kill my secretary,” I finally said with a sigh when he continued to stand there observing me. “I finally taught him how to make a good cup of coffee.”

“He’ll wake up in a couple of hours with a headache but none the worse for it otherwise.”

“Whatever it is you want, the answer is no.”

“Kat, you owe us.”

I motioned to my office. “I owe you?” I scoffed. “For what? My bad-conduct discharge? For being stuck on a space station billions of miles from Earth with no way home?”

The man shrugged. “You know the game. When something or someone goes missing, there has to be a scapegoat. Unfortunately, this time, that person was you.”

“What goes around, comes around, right?”

“It seems like it.” He motioned to our relative positions. Once, not that long ago, they’d been reversed.

“You know I had nothing to do with it.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He shrugged. “You were the last person to see him alive. That, unfortunately, is enough for some people.”

I gritted my teeth, wanting nothing more than for him to be gone. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“I want to offer you a chance—”

“Pass.”

“You haven’t heard the offer.”

“I don’t need to.” I shook my head. “Pass.”

“This is a chance for redemption.”

“Do I look like I want to be redeemed?”

“Frankly?” The man chuckled. “Yes, you do.”

“A year ago, I might have. Today, I’m comfortable in my job and position in society.”

“As what?” He looked at the door and read what was written on the window. “A professional troubleshooter? What is that, anyway?”

“I fix things that are broken.”

The man took a couple steps toward my desk with his hands out to his sides. “Like what?”

“Like your broken nose.”

“My nose isn’t broken.”

“It will be if you get any closer to me.”

He stopped. “Why do you have to be like this?”

I leaned forward and slapped my desk with both hands. “Because you made me this way!”

He nodded slowly. “I can see how you might feel like that.”

“You should!” With an effort, I took control of my breathing. “I told you. Pass. Now, are you going to leave?” I was never much good at threats—and he wouldn’t have felt threatened in any event—so I just let my voice trail off. We’d been “an item” once, back when I was Cassandra “La Gata” Ramirez, but it hadn’t worked out. Could I break his nose? Absolutely. But seriously hurt him? My emotions ran too deep for that.

He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave. But not until you hear the offer.”

“Fine.” He was the most stubborn man I’d ever known, and—short of a large quantity of high explosives—I wasn’t moving him. I sat back. “Tell me the offer.”

“Like I said. Redemption. Sokolov’s weapon has shown up again.”

“And Sokolov?”

The man shrugged. “No idea. The plans, though, are on the market for the highest bidder.”

“Why me?”

“They’re on the planet below. In the City. You always had the best network of locals. We want you to use them to locate the schematics and recover them.”

“Had. Past tense. When you burned me, they got burned, too. I doubt any of them will want to see me again ever. Except to kill me, of course.”

“Here’s the thing.” The man motioned to the chair in front of the desk. “Can I sit?”

“No. You’re leaving as soon as you finish what you have to say.”

“Fine. Get the plans, bring them back, and all will be forgiven.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Remember? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The man sighed. “I told them you’d be difficult.”

I stared at him. I didn’t have anything else to say. Both of us were telling the truth.

Finally, he shrugged. “Here’s the deal. We’ll remember that you helped us. Even if you don’t want back in, you’ll find a number of opportunities will magically fall at your feet.”

“And if I don’t do this?”

“We’ll remember you didn’t, too. You think your life is hard now? It will get a lot harder. You know what kind of strings we can pull. Any time you go out on a job, someone will be there to spoil it for you.”

“And you think you can threaten me into doing it?”

“I don’t.” The man shook his head. “But, like I said, my opinions don’t matter. The new boss thinks you can be threatened, because he doesn’t know you. I know threats won’t work on you; that’s why I came. I knew that if anyone else did, they’d likely end up with a broken nose. Or worse.”

He wasn’t wrong. “So, you came . . . why? What were you hoping for? To leave without blood loss?”

“No. I came because I know you’ll do it.”

I scoffed. “And how do you figure that?”

“Well, I could appeal to your sense of duty, which we both know you still have, even though the organization screwed you. I could appeal to your sense of patriotism, because if the Rigolians get the weapon, they’ll use it to exterminate humanity. Projections show we’d last about ten years before they kill or enslave everyone.” He cleared his throat. “That, of course, includes you, which ought to appeal to your sense of self-preservation, too.”

He shrugged when I continued to look at him. “But at the end of the day, I know that once your back is up—like it is now—you’ll say no. Out of spite, if nothing else. You’d still probably do it, even without the help I can offer, because you know it’s the right thing to do. But you wouldn’t agree to it, and agreement is what I need to take back to my boss.”

He smiled. “And I know you’re going to do it, because I’m going to do the one thing you’d never expect me to do.”

I tilted my head. “And what’s that?”

Dex gave me his crooked smile. The one I’d never been able to say no to. “I’m going to say please.”

✧ ✧ ✧

After I said I’d do it—as Dex had known I would—he left, and I pulled out my slate.

Unfortunately, everything I’d said to Dex had been true. When I’d been burned, most of my network on the planet had either been burned or gone into hiding. Even if they hadn’t, I would have been hesitant about trying to reactivate any of them. In the spy world, times change, people change, and most importantly to my task at hand, loyalties change. Usually, that was due to monetary reasons, but sometimes allegiances changed too.

Despite what they’d done to me, though, Dex had been right. My allegiances never have.

I just hoped that Palador’s hadn’t, either, because I’d need him to get into the City.

I hated the City, but then again everyone hated it, hidden underneath its semiopaque dome. You couldn’t see through that covering, and Intel hated that more than anything else—they had no idea what was going on in there. To them, the City was an unknown, a place that existed only on hearsay. In the last twenty years, only one Human had ever been there and returned. Me.

And I hated it more than anyone because I knew what went on there. Everything.

It didn’t matter what you wanted. Drugs. Jewels. People. Fantasies. If you had enough credits, you could get it in the depths of the City. The stories went that you could even get Humans there.

Unfortunately, I knew they were right.

✧ ✧ ✧

The one perk of the job was that it came with a strike fighter, which made the trip down to the planet expeditious, even if it wasn’t the height of luxury. I hadn’t flown one in a couple of years—and hadn’t flown anything in over a year—so it was fun to get back in the cockpit again.

It was also over way too quickly, of course, and I sighed as I listened to the craft pop and ping as it cooled on the back lawn of Palador’s farmstead. Finally, though, I couldn’t put it off any longer, and I climbed down and turned toward the house. Then I jumped as a laser round burned the grass at my feet.

“Stay where you are,” a voice from inside the house warned.

Using a hand to shade my eyes, I called, “Palador, is that you? Hell of a way to greet an old friend.”

“First,” the Stangor replied, “we were never friends, just business associates. Second, it’s been a long time without word from you. And even if it hadn’t been, third, I’ve heard that you’ve fallen from favor with your organization.”

“Can I come in and address your concerns over a drink or two? Or do I have to stand out here in the burning sun?”

“A little sun might be good for you,” Palador replied. “You look awfully pale, even for a Human.”

I put my hands on my hips and cocked my head. “Seriously?”

“Fine,” he said after a minute. More importantly, he shouldered the rifle. “But only because my mate isn’t here. You need to be gone before she returns, and I know you won’t leave until I talk with you. I guess I could kill you, but then I’d have to clean up the mess, and there’s the fighter that would have to be moved . . . ” I could hear Palador’s sigh from where I stood. “Might as well come in, but do it quickly. I don’t want anyone to know you’re back.”

“Yeah, ’cause nothing says, ‘I’m not here’ like a ten-ton space fighter on your lawn,” I muttered. Still, I walked toward the house with my hands where he could see them. No sense having him get itchy.

I hadn’t seen the house in the daylight often, even when I was a frequent visitor, but it looked pretty much the same as it had—a single-story structure that covered almost half an acre. Stangors didn’t like stairs much and tended to spread out, not up. Except for the City.

If rhinos had prehensile hands and had learned to walk on two legs, that’s what a Stangor looked like. They were massive and had a tough hide; the easiest way to take one out was with an antitank weapon. As it was almost impossible to hide one of those, Palador didn’t have much to worry about, but he was nervous enough on his own. Crime lords are just naturally that way. No sense making it worse.

He led me to the kitchen and nodded to the table. “Want a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I said as I sat, making sure I had a good view of my fighter in the yard.

He tilted his head. “Don’t trust me?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

I smiled. “That’s a good place to start then.”

“From a feeling of mutual mistrust?”

I nodded.

“You’re a strange one, Kat. Even for a Human, you’re strange.”

“So I’m told.”

“Why are you here?”

“Hi, I’m fine. How are you? Good. The kids? Awesome. Great. Good to hear it.” I chuckled. “You never were one for much small talk.”

“Neither were you, which is why I used to like you. Now you’re trying my patience. What do you want?”

I sighed. “Straight to business then. The plans for Sokolov’s weapon are being advertised in the City.”

“You better hope the Rigolians don’t get them, then. Otherwise, the galaxy will be without its most annoying race.”

“Come on, Palador; that’s not fair. The Dantars are far more annoying than Humans.”

“True,” he agreed gruffly. “The second most annoying, then.”

“That’s fair.” I shrugged. “Regardless, as a member of the second most annoying race, I’d like to make sure the Rigolians don’t get the plans.”

“I’ll bet you would.”

I shook my head. “Are we going to drag this out, or can we just move forward to where you say you’re going to help me?”

“I’m not going to help you. I promised my mate that I was done with you.”

“And yet here we are”—I motioned around the kitchen—“sitting around your table just like old times.”

Palador’s shoulder twitched, his attempt at a shrug. “I didn’t shoot you for old times’ sake. I was serious when I told my mate I was done with you, though.”

“You also told her you were going to take her off this planet, and you’re still here a year later.”

“Credits got a bit tight after you disappeared.”

I knew that was a lie. Palador had more money than some planets. Small ones, sure, but planets, nonetheless. Still, that was his way of saying he’d consider helping . . . but only if the price was right. Because, if I knew anything about Palador, it’s that he really did want to leave the planet and the cartel. He just needed a way to get out and enough credits to do it safely.

I smiled. “That’s all you need to start a new life? Credits?” I leaned forward and put both my hands on the table. “The opening bid for the plans are five hundred million credits. My government would make that bid if we were allowed to be there. If you get me the plans, the five hundred million is yours.”

Palador’s eyes narrowed. “The price will go up a lot higher, though. That’s just the opening bid.”

“We don’t expect you to actually buy the plans. We want you to obtain them and make sure that whoever’s selling them doesn’t keep a copy for themselves.”

“How am I going to do that?”

“You run the second largest crime ring in the City. I’m sure you have ways.”

“While it’s true I run the second largest ring, if what I hear is correct, the plans are being held by the Boo’Grali cartel.” He looked up at me. “That’s the biggest one, and they have access to everything.”

“I’m aware.”

“Just making sure you remembered.”

“I do.”

“You also remember what they do to people that steal from them.”

I winced. “I do.”

“Then you will understand why the amount you offered is not enough. I will have to pay off a number of people, all of whom will have to leave the planet.”

“I doubt they need as much as you do, though.”

“Individually, no. But there are . . . five whom I will have to pay. No, make that six. Between them, that’s . . . another billion credits.”

I didn’t say anything, but simply looked at him. After a few seconds, I lifted an eyebrow.

“I mean it,” Palador said. “That’s the bottom line.”

“Uh, huh.” I smiled. “We both know you’re going to skim from each of the payments.”

He shrugged again. “It’s what businessmen do.”

I chuckled. “Fine. One billion for your troubles and five hundred million for you. I don’t care how you dispense it. Fair?” I really didn’t care. Especially since I had told Dex it would cost two billion, and he’d brought me four credit sticks, each with a half billion on them. One of those was now mine, assuming I lived through this mission, which was far from a sure thing.

Palador nodded. “All in advance.”

I smiled. “One third in advance. The rest when I get the plans and your assurance that they don’t have the files anymore.”

“How do I know I can trust your government to pay?”

I reached into a pocket and pulled out one of the sticks. “I would never ask you to trust my government. Hell, I don’t trust my government, which is why I had them front me the one point five billion I expected it would take to get your assistance. I’m asking you to trust me.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?”

“Have I ever let you down?”

“Yeah. You disappeared on me, putting me in a very awkward position on a number of ongoing deals.”

“That wasn’t my fault, as we both know.” I held up the credit stick and smiled. It was about the length of a finger and probably worth more than anything in the City. Except for Sokolov’s weapon, anyway. “Do you want it or not?”

I glanced at him and saw the avarice in his eyes. I gave it a fifty-fifty shot that he’d take it, ditch his mate, and run. I had a backup plan if that happened—smuggling a nuke into the city—but it wasn’t one I particularly wanted to use. Despite my reputation, I really didn’t like killing innocents, and the law of averages said there were probably at least two or three innocents in the City. Don’t get me wrong—I’d totally do it, and it definitely needed to be done—I just wouldn’t like it very much.

“Done.” He reached over and took the stick. He chuckled. “How do you know I’m not going to ghost you on this?”

“I transmitted our agreement to my fighter and then up to my account on the station.”

“You can’t. My house is enclosed by a Faraday cage. No transmissions in or out.”

I smiled. “See my fighter out there?” I pointed my slate out the window.

“Yeah.”

“Watch the cockpit.”

“So?”

“Wait for it . . . ”

Something inside the canopy flashed twice.

Palador’s forehead scrunched together. “What was that?”

“The acknowledgement that the laser link I just sent got through. Unfortunately—for you, anyway—a cage can’t stop a laser link. If you run, I’ll let the Boo’Gralis know you sold them out. If I die, a copy will automatically be sent to them.”

“Sneaky.” He gave me a nod of appreciation.

“I learned from the best.” Palador had about ten such auto-messages queued up in case something happened to him. There were very few people on the planet or the station above that he didn’t have something embarrassing on; most of the evidence he had was career ending. I didn’t know for sure whether he had something on me, but since I didn’t have a career at the moment, I wasn’t particularly worried about it.

I smiled. “So, how are we going to do this?”

✧ ✧ ✧

I looked out the maglev window that afternoon as we headed into the City. I had, of course, gotten some strange looks when I boarded, but when people saw Palador standing next to me, they didn’t say a word. He had a bit of a reputation, as you might have guessed. Most nodded knowingly when they saw the chain running from his hand to the collar around my neck and the doped-out look in my eyes.

Don’t mind me; I’m just another present for someone in the City.

I wasn’t a fan of his plan, of course, although I saw why it worked to get me in. I’d reminded him twice of the recording I had of him when he attached the collar. It wasn’t that I distrusted him at this stage, but I really didn’t like the collar. I knew it was post-traumatic stress from a previous op gone bad; that didn’t make it any easier to wear.

Palador lived out in the country, so it was a number of stops before we’d get to the City. Officially, it was the Economic Trade Zone which was required by galactic law when you joined the Federation. The treaty didn’t get too far into specifics; it just stated that you had to have one. The Stangor trade zone had lasted about a week before organized crime had taken it over. Then, as a coalition, they’d built the dome over it so that the Federation spooks up on the station above couldn’t look down and see what they were doing.

Humans were allowed into the dome, of course, but then they started going missing. The trade zone police—run by the cartels, of course—weren’t able to find the perpetrators. Big surprise. Finally, after enough people went missing, with no hope of ever seeing them again, Humans stopped coming and started going through “factors” on the planet. The cartels liked it better that way. Everyone knew that the factors were taking a cut—they were part of the cartels, after all—but that was seen as part of the cost of doing business on the planet. It just contributed to the cost of the red diamonds produced here, which were already exorbitant, so no one made much of a fuss.

I sighed as the City came into view, though I tried to hide it. With its opaque dome, the City was dark and foreboding; too many people living too close to each other. I hated it with a passion, as did most of its residents. It was worse for me, though. Stangors had a certain . . . odor that was amplified by having millions of them in one place that had a dome holding in the stench. I don’t know if they smelled it, but I certainly did.

Palador jerked the chain when the maglev stopped, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to break character and claw his eyes out. The zip tie holding my hands behind my back couldn’t have held me; I would have damaged my left arm breaking free, but my right arm—which was bionic—was certainly strong enough to do the job.

I turned my spin toward him into a stumble to cover my lapse and walked in the direction he commanded; hopefully no one noticed that I stepped on his toes as I did so. The smell assailed my nostrils as we left the maglev, but I knew it was coming and didn’t flinch as he led me off the train and through the station.

He paused out front as he caught a hover car, and I had a chance to look around, even though I shuffled about as if unaware of my surroundings.

Nothing had changed in the last year. It still stank and everything was dirty. Actually, as I got a better look, I thought the buildings were dirtier, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. Garbage filled the alleys I could see, spilling out onto the streets to be whipped into the fetid air as hover cars blasted past. The buildings were too close together and extended upward to almost touch the dome, three hundred meters up, blocking out any views of the surroundings. You could see up and down the street you were on, and that was it.

The buildings were blocky and ugly, squared off to cram in disproportionate numbers of lifts since the Stangors didn’t use stairs. In an emergency, they’d have to wait for a lift. If there was a fire and the power went off, they’d burn. I’d smelled roasted Stangor before, and it was even less pleasant than their normal smell. In Human cities, the higher apartments paid higher rent for the awesome views they had. Here, the lower apartments were the priciest, in case they had to jump out a window.

As massive as the Stangors were, a second-story fall would probably break bones; anything above the third story probably wasn’t survivable. I scoffed to myself, looking at the fifty-story death traps. The lower you were in the cartel’s hierarchy, the higher up you lived. The leaders—like Palador—lived in the country.

Palador finally got a cab, and we drove around the City a bit to lose any potential tails. A Human was a hot commodity, and his parading me through the train station probably spawned a number of snatch-and-grab plots among the lower-level thugs who didn’t recognize Palador. Those that did, of course, stayed well clear.

Eventually, though, we pulled up to a nondescript building down an equally unremarkable street somewhere off the main drag.

“Got a new headquarters?” I asked as the cab drove away.

Palador nodded. “The number three cartel decided they wanted to be number two.”

“How’d that turn out for them?”

“They don’t exist anymore, and we’re a much stronger number two with all of their assets.” He shrugged. “Well, most of their assets. The Boo’Gralis got some of it.” He spat. “Bastards.”

I nodded in sympathy. The Boo’Gralis were the worst group of criminals in the galaxy. You name it, they were into it. They probably owned a dozen planets, and what went on there . . . I shuddered.

We walked up to the door, and it opened as we approached. The Stangor inside stuck his head out and looked both ways, then retreated back inside to allow Palador and me to enter. A second watchman was down the hall behind a blast shield. The muzzle of a large-caliber weapon stuck through in our direction. I didn’t want to be hit by whatever it fired.

Palador nodded to the watchmen. “Well done.”

We walked down the hall past the second watchman then waited on an elevator. When it opened, I walked in, looked at the buttons and asked, “Which floor?”

“None of them,” Palador said. He pulled out a key and inserted it. The elevator went down, and I raised an eyebrow.

“You can never be too careful,” Palador noted.

I estimated the elevator went down two floors, then it stopped and opened. Another tunnel and another watchman behind a blast shield waited for us. “I see you take your security seriously.”

“We do.” Palador winked. “It’s how we stay number two.”

I looked up. The tunnel was rigged to blow, too. I was used to dealing with large amounts of explosives, otherwise it might have bothered me. As it was, I just smiled in professional acknowledgement of a job well done.

We passed several obvious cameras and more explosives, then we came to another guard at a post in front of another door.

“Almost there,” Palador said as he operated the biometric lock. The door to another elevator opened. This one didn’t have buttons at all, just a slot for a key. Palador inserted the key, counted to three, and then turned it, although he stepped in front of me so I couldn’t see which direction it turned.

“You’ve got all this security here . . . ”

Palador turned as the elevator started up. “Yes?”

“You didn’t appear to have anything at your house.”

He chuckled. “There is plenty, including the minefield you parked your fighter on. I just don’t like to advertise it, and my mate doesn’t like to be reminded of it. Trust me, though, it’s there.”

I nodded and made a mental note to watch for minefields the next time I visited Palador. The elevator stopped, and the door opened into a large room with at least twenty toughs in it. I saw several races I knew represented and several I didn’t. Stangors predominated, of course, but the others all brought additional qualifications to the table. While Stangors were tough, they weren’t particularly fast or agile, nor did you want them wiring explosives with their big sausage-like fingers. They were the shock troops, just like the Goochies were the scouts. Small and unobtrusive, the little ratlike aliens could get into spaces you wouldn’t have thought possible. Need a duct infiltrated? A whole Goochie family could live in a tiny pipe, with space to spare.

Everyone in the room seemed to be cleaning a weapon or checking their armor, and the countless other tasks that soldiers did before going to war. I recognized a couple of them and nodded. Most of them were new. Cartels go through a lot of junior henchmen, especially in the City.

All of the activity, though, made my skin crawl. I looked around the table and really, really hoped we weren’t going to try to take on the Boo’Gralis. If we were, then were going to need a whole lot more people and armories full of weapons. A medium-sized nuke would be better.

I cleared my throat as Palador unlatched my collar and removed the damn chain from my neck. “So, uh what’s the play here?”

Palador smiled. “They’re just getting ready for when we take down the K’sally cartel today.”

I nodded slowly as if that made sense. It didn’t.

“They’re the new number three cartel,” one of the Goochies squeaked. “I’ve been watching them all week, and they’re getting too big for their britches.”

“I see,” I said. I didn’t. I turned to Palador, wondering how we were going to get the plans from one cartel while we were in the middle of a fight with a different one.

He smiled. “It’s all part of the plan.”

“Please feel free to enlighten me.”

“And spoil the surprise?”

I frowned. “I hate surprises. A lot.”

“It’s easy,” Palador said. “We walk into the Boo’Grali cartel, pick up the slate with the plans, and walk back out again.”

“That’s your plan?”

Palador nodded. “The basics of it, anyway.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Nope. I mean, who would be dumb enough to do something like that? It would be suicide.”

“It would be suicide to simply show my face there,” I said. “Please tell me there’s more to it than that.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll be doing this unarmed.”

“What?”

Palador smiled. “But then we get to walk back out and get away.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And how exactly do we do that?”

“Sadly, that part will probably involve shooting, explosions, and some running around. Have I told you how much I hate running?” He sighed. “The things I do for you.”

“Well, I hate getting shot,” I noted, “and getting dead is worse. Considering the fact that most of the things that bounce off you go straight through me, you can expect me to use you as a shield when the rounds start flying.”

Palador shrugged. “If we do this right, we won’t be around when the shooting starts.”

I shook my head. “Plan. Specifics. Now.”

“No time,” Palador said, looking at his watch. “We’ll be late if we don’t go now.”

“Boss,” one of the Stangors said, “don’t forget this.” He handed over a bag.

“Thanks.” Palador looked at me. “Let’s go.”

My jaw dropped. This isn’t how we do things. The complete lack of planning offended my prior military training.

“Coming?” Palador asked from the elevator.

I hurried to get in before it closed, then we retraced out steps back outside to where a hover car now waited for us. We got into the back, and my eyes widened. The vehicle was being driven by a Goochie, which was odd since he couldn’t reach the pedals. I shook my head as I looked over the seat. He was sitting in a special chair that allowed him to look over the dashboard, and the car had been modified with a variety of buttons, dials, and switches that apparently allowed him to replicate the car’s normal controls.

“What the hell?” I asked. “You’ve got a Goochie driver?”

“We rescued a bunch of them,” Palador said. “The whole warren here is now aligned with us.”

“But a driver?”

Palador nodded. “His reflexes are far faster than yours and mine.” He handed me the bag. “Quick. Put this on.”

I looked into the bag and pulled out a mask and full-length gloves. “What’s this for?”

“That will hide the fact that you’re a Human. Although they probably wouldn’t grab you due to the truce, I don’t want to take any chances.”

I pulled the mask down over my head. It was a formfitting thing that changed the color of my skin to an off-blue and gave me small horns. The gloves went almost to my shoulder, turning my arms the same color blue, making it look like I was a Trixie from Kor’Bon and not a Human. Both were made of near-skin, a polymer that bonded with skin, so the end result was invisible. It was incredibly expensive, but it was also a bastard to get back off again.

I hated the damn things.

But I hated being sold into slavery more.

The Goochie drove about five minutes and pulled up to a building that covered the whole block in both directions and I knew instantly where we were. There was only one on this side, although I knew there were more entrances around back.

“The Boo’Gralis headquarters? We’re not seriously going in there. This is a joke, right? I mean, I’m not laughing, but you got me. We can continue driving—” I shut my mouth as even I could hear the panic in my voice. The Boo’Gralis made people disappear . . . and we were going to walk in there?

“You want the plans? They’re inside.” Palador shrugged. “They’ve called a truce for today. Besides, like I said, who’d be dumb enough to assault their HQ? If all the other cartels banded together, maybe we’d have a chance, but that’s never going to happen.” He jerked a massive chin toward the entrance where two Stangors were going in. “Do you want the plans or not?”

I don’t know if I liked the rest of humanity enough to want them that badly.

Deciding I did, I got out of the car, and Palador followed me, then he strode up to the door like he owned it, leaving me to hurry after him like I was his minion. At the moment, I wasn’t sure I even qualified as that; I still had no idea what we were going to do.

Still, I trusted him—a little—and the fact that he stood to make more money by playing straight with me than he would have made selling me out was also a small comfort. The door opened for him, and he entered like he belonged there. I quickened my pace and was just in time to hear him tell the guard that we were there for the auction.

The entranceway was reminiscent of the entrance into Palador’s cartel, but even more impressive. It probably would have withstood most man-portable explosives.

“Very well. You’ll need to leave all your weapons here.”

“Of course,” Palador said. “We’re all being very civil today, right?”

“Until you do something that makes the boss change his mind.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Palador started to hand over a rail pistol, but then paused. “I’m going to get this back, right?”

The guard nodded. “When you leave.”

“Fine. Don’t play with it, or it will explode.” Palador flipped a switch on it and then handed the weapon over, then a second and a third. Then he pulled out two knives, and he finished by taking off his jacket to remove a rail rifle from a holster on his back.

“What the hell?” I asked as he handed it over.

“What? This little thing?”

I guess I could see his point; it looked small in his hands, but I knew it would be an absolute beast for a Human to aim and fire.

“Your weapons, ma’am?”

“I don’t have any.”

The guard startled. Probably the first time he’s ever heard that.

“You will have to go through a scanner, ma’am.” The guard pointed toward an arch in the hallway. “The boss will be displeased if you don’t turn in all of your weapons.”

“I don’t have any. I will, however, set off your alarm as I have a bionic arm.”

“You do?” Palador asked. “I didn’t know that.”

I shrugged. “It turns out that crashing a shuttle is bad for your health.”

The guard pulled out a wand and waved it all over me. It only went off for my right arm. He felt my arm and either wasn’t familiar with the texture of near-skin or the Stangor sense of touch wasn’t very sensitive. Either way, he waved us through, and a guard escorted us to a waiting room where we sat for about ten minutes.

Palador closed his eyes and looked for all the world like he was asleep. I tried to match his disdain and probably pulled it off, unless they had experienced watchers who knew our body language. Which they probably did.

Finally, the interior door opened, and there stood Frex Boo’Grali. It was a good thing I was unarmed; my reflexes would probably have been to shoot him. The alien was generally humanoid, but with a bald head too thin and long to be Human. He was also about two and a half meters tall. The enforcer behind him barely fit through the doorway.

“My good friend, Palador,” Frex said. “You’re next to view the merchandise, although I think you’re out of your league on this one. I expect the price tag to be well over ten billion credits when all is said and done.”

“It’s not for me,” Palador said gruffly. “It’s for her.” He jerked his chin in my direction. “Apparently, there’s a civil war that has become . . . quite uncivil on Kor’Ban. She wants it, and I’m just her chaperone on-planet to make sure nothing untoward happens to her.”

The Boo’Grali looked me up and down twice, and it took all my composure to look confident. At least, I hoped the shiver that went down my back didn’t show.

“How much is she worth?” Frex asked.

“Not as much as the plans, or I’d offer to swap her for them. Let’s see them.”

“Straight to business as always, huh, Palador?” Frex chuckled. “Fine. Here you go.” He pulled out a slate and handed it to Palador. “The schematics are, of course, incomplete, in case you’re hoping to take a picture of them and re-create them.”

“Of course,” Palador said. “No honor among thieves, eh?”

“What do you mean?” Frex asked. “I certainly didn’t steal them.”

“Oh, no?”

“Of course not. Sokolov gave them to me himself.”

Palador laughed. “Let me guess. He’s in your dungeon here, and he gave them to you under torture and to save his life?”

“Perhaps.” Frex smiled. “But they were freely given.”

Palador set the slate on the table and looked at it for a few moments, swiping between the pages, then he started to pass it to me. Before he could, though, he pulled it back to look at something else. After staring at it another few moments, he passed it to me. I looked at it, but I couldn’t tell what—if anything—was missing. Then again, I’d been a lot of things in my career, but engineer wasn’t one of them. I passed it back, and Palador stared at it a while longer. All the while, Frex grew more and more impatient.

“I told you,” the Boo’Grali said, “memorizing it won’t do you any good.”

“I know,” Palador said. “I’m just confused—”

Boom! An explosion sounded outside the room, and Frex and his enforcer ran to the door.

“What’s going on?” Frex yelled to someone down the hall.

Palador looked up and tossed the slate toward the ceiling.

Where it was caught by a Goochie hanging out of the ventilation duct. The toss wasn’t particularly close, and the alien had to reach so far that he almost overbalanced himself and fell out. He made a small squeak, and a cloud of dust fell, but then he was able to scamper back into the duct, shaking his head. He turned around and dropped a slate that appeared to be the same one that had been tossed.

Palador caught it silently, softening the blow so there wasn’t a slapping sound as it hit his hands.

Frex turned around with an accusing look on his face. “The guard says something blew up in one of the weapons you turned in.”

Palador shrugged. “I told them not to play with them. They’re coded for me.” He handed over the slate and surreptitiously slid his hand across the table, sweeping off the dust that had fallen from the duct.

“Well?” Frex asked. “What do you think?”

Palador turned to me, and I said, “We’re in. Opening bid is two billion credits.”

“So low? Hmm. That is disappointing. Are you sure you don’t want to start higher? You are in danger of losing out.”

I smiled. “Let Palador know the final bid, and I will beat it.” I stood. “Come, Palador, we must give the other buyers a chance to look. The sooner they do, the sooner I can buy it.”

We started to leave, and Frex held up a hand. “No one leaves without being searched.”

I sighed. “Fine. But if your man gets too frisky . . . ”

Frex’s enforcer patted us down. Although he checked everywhere, he kept the search professional.

“Can we go now?” I asked somewhat haughtily.

Frex motioned to the door. “Stay in touch.”

We had made it almost halfway out when a shout rang out from behind us. “Stop them! They’ve stolen the slate!”

“Nova!” Palador muttered, pushing past me. “Run!”

He bolted forward surprisingly quickly for someone with his bulk. As good as the defenses were, they were meant to keep people out, not trap people in, and the first guard was just turning toward us when Palador slammed into him. The guard’s rifle went flying as he bounced off the wall, and Palador punched him in the throat. The guard dropped to the floor, choking.

I struggled to lift the rail rifle as Palador raced off, but it was too heavy, so I took the guard’s pistol, which was nearly rifle-sized for a Human. I hurried after Palador, who was just reaching the next checkpoint. Two people—along with another guard—were cleaning and repairing the damage Palador had caused, and he threw himself sideways into them, scattering them across the passageway. The first up, Palador took the guard’s pistol and shot him with it, then paused to put a round into each of the other thugs.

“Keep going!” he urged, turning to fire behind us at people coming down the hall.

I ran out onto the street and paused. There was no getaway car. In fact, there were no cars to be seen. Marines may run to the sound of battle, but normal people—and especially criminals—move away from it as quickly as possible.

“Go!” Palador yelled.

“Where?”

“This way.” He turned right and ran down the street, and I tore off in pursuit.

Rounds started snapping past us, and Palador turned to fire as he ran. We reached the next corner without being hit and turned right.

“About time,” a small voice said from above.

Palador looked up and a Goochie dropped a slate to him. Then a second. He smiled at me as he jammed them into a pocket. He nodded to an old-school car—with wheels, no less—parked on that block. “That’s our ride.”

We ran toward it and jumped in. The first rounds started hitting the back of the vehicle as he pressed the ignition button.

“Hurry!” I exclaimed.

“Working on it.” The motor turned over but didn’t catch.

More rounds hit the car, and the back window disintegrated in a spray of glass. I turned and fired through the empty space. I didn’t hit any of the thugs following us, but they stopped firing to throw themselves behind cover, which gave us a moment’s reprieve.

“Come on, Palador . . . ”

The engine roared.

“Here we go!” Palador gunned the motor, and it jumped forward with a jerk. He shoved the throttles forward and took a left at the next intersection. A host of people were pouring from the Boo’Grali building on this side, including one with a tubelike object, and a number of rounds hit the car. My window exploded, covering me in glass.

“Dammit! Go! Go! Go!” I yelled.

“I’ve got this!” he shouted as he straightened the steering and roared off.

We made it about twenty meters before the rocket hit beside us, flattening the front left wheel. The car careened out of control, crossed the walkway, and slammed into a nearby building.

I jumped out with the guard’s pistol and took up a position at the hood so I could fire down the street. Palador exited the car and ran to my side as rounds pounded the opposite side of the car.

“We need to go!” I exclaimed as he started returning fire.

“We’ll be killed if we leave cover,” he replied.

“Do you see the guy with the rocket launcher?” I asked. “We’ll be killed right here once he reloads.”

“There’s a safe house a block in that direction,” Palador said, pointing up the street. “If we can get there, I can get us out of here.”

I looked and then pointed back down the street. “You realize that there are about ten people that still want us dead back there, right? And they’re not going to let us run ten meters, much less a block?”

“It’s more like twelve or thirteen, I think.”

“Dammit.” I glanced over the hood as his gun clicked empty.

“Give me your pistol,” he said.

I handed it over, then I sighed. “Got a knife?” I asked.

“What are you going to do with a knife?”

“Get us out of here. Now, do you have a knife or not?”

“Yeah, I do,” Palador said, sliding one out from a hidden compartment of his boot.

He handed it over, and I shook my head. It wasn’t metal, but it appeared sharp enough, although it was almost as long as a short sword, which would make it difficult to use.

“What do you think you’re going to do with it?” he asked. “You can’t be thinking of charging them with it—you couldn’t kill one of them with a knife, much less thirteen of them.”

“Did I ever tell you I had a bionic arm?” I asked as I sliced through the near-skin and the synflesh underneath it where my right bicep would have been.

“Yeah, you mentioned it.” He looked a little closer as I began disassembling the metallic structure that had given the synflesh shape.

A round snapped past, and I flinched. “Less looking. More shooting.”

“Right,” he agreed with a grunt. He leaned out and fired several times, then he ducked back.

Some of the pieces were a little sticky—it had been a while since I took it apart—but I quickly stripped off my arm and then began putting it back together again, using my knees to hold the pieces while I screwed them onto each other with my remaining hand. I ducked several times as rail gun rounds snapped past at Mach five or so. When I finished, I had what looked like a small, pistol-shaped speargun launcher— along with a quiver of six bolts.

“What the hell is that going to do?” Palador asked, looking over at me. “I doubt that will penetrate their hides. Those darts aren’t even big enough to piss them off.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” I slid over next to him. “Get ready to run.”

“One. I don’t run. And two. There are too many of them. There’s no way we get more than a step or two before they kill us.”

“Do you trust me?” I asked with a smile.

“No!” he yelled.

“Good.” My smile grew. “Then get ready to run.” I loaded the launcher one-handed and laid three other bolts close by. “Here we go.” I fired the first bolt into the biggest concentration of Stangors. It detonated with a massive blast. I ducked down behind cover but still felt the heat of the explosion.

Palador’s jaw dropped. “What the hell was that?”

I shrugged as I put in another bolt and fired at the rocket guy, who had completed his reload and was bringing up the weapon. He disappeared in a massive explosion. I reloaded and fired a third time. That detonation was as impressive as the first couple had been. I slammed another bolt into the launcher. “Run!” I yelled. I broke cover and ran up the street. I’d made it about ten meters when Palador came chugging past. Although he’d said he couldn’t run, he was able to sprint, and he dashed past me. I’ve never had a rhino charge at me before, and seeing him run, I hoped to never have it happen in the future.

A rail gun round snapped past, and I turned and fired the bolt I had loaded. The round hit next to the thug with the rail gun, who laughed as he looked at it sticking into the wall next to him.

“Missed!” he yelled.

Then it exploded in a blast of shrapnel and masonry. I turned to run and found Palador halfway up the street, not looking back. “Fuck,” I muttered as I raced off as fast as I could. Only having one arm—which was holding the bolt thrower—threw off my balance.

Palador went around a corner and was lost to sight. I pushed as hard as I could, then found I had even a little more to give when another rail gun round snapped past. I roared around the corner, leaning into the turn, and almost dashed past him.

Palador stood on the first stoop, holding the door open. “Inside,” he said.

I ran through, breathing hard, and started down the hall.

“Wait,” he called. “Come back.”

He opened a big doorway. Thick stone steps led down into the darkness. He motioned into the blackness. “Go!”

“I thought you didn’t do stairs,” I said.

“I don’t.” He shrugged. “I also don’t run. Except when my life depends on it.” He nodded at the doorway. “Never mind. I’ll go first.” He started down the stairs. “Let’s go. Quickly.”

“At least you won’t fall on me this way,” I muttered as I shut the door and followed him.

He didn’t go down the stairs as quickly as I could have, but it was respectable, especially when he got to the switchback on the first landing and had to almost bend himself in double to get through it. With a little back and forth, he managed it, and we continued down.

A tunnel waited at the end of the stairs, going left and right. We’d just made it to the bottom when a glimmer of light appeared above us as someone opened the door. I aimed my bolt launcher, but Palador put a meaty paw on it and gently forced it down. After a moment, the thug backed out into the hallway.

“They can’t see us down here,” he whispered.

“They’re not down there,” the goon at the top of the stairs said as he closed the door.

Palador smiled in the gloom. “They don’t do stairs either, which makes this the perfect escape.” He turned and jogged off down the tunnel to the left. It had small lights every ten meters or so, which was just enough for us to see as our eyes adjusted.

“Wait,” I called. “Your headquarters is the other direction.”

“I know. They’re going to have a hot time of it when the Boo’Gralis show up. Good thing they all have their armor and weapons out.”

“You set them up?”

He shrugged. “I thought we might need a diversion.”

He trotted off, and I jogged to keep up.

We ran for what seemed like a long while, and I was about spent when he finally pulled up.

“For someone who doesn’t run,” I gasped, “you do pretty well.”

“Having death chasing me increases my stamina immeasurably,” he said. He nodded to my bolt thrower. “What in the twenty-nine hells is that?”

“Bolt thrower,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

“What kind of bolts are those?”

“They’ve got eighteen nanograms of antimatter suspended at the tip. It creates an explosion about five times the size of one of our grenades.”

Palador’s jaw dropped. “You were walking around with over fifty nanograms of antimatter inside your arm?” He shook his head. “Are you crazy? What were you thinking?”

“It’s actually more than a hundred nanograms.” I shrugged. “At some point, though, the amount doesn’t matter. Dead is dead.” I chuckled. “As to what I was thinking, I was thinking that it would be good to have a weapon that actually works on a Stangor—rather than just pissing one off—since I can’t carry anything else that does.”

He shook his head then turned to a large metal box sitting nearby. He stuck in a key and opened the lid, then he removed several items from it, although I couldn’t see what he was doing since his bulk blocked my sight.

Finally, he shut the lid and locked it again, then he turned and nodded to a set of stairs nearby. “You’ll have to leave your weapon here. Those stairs go up to the maglev.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. If you’re seen with that, it will cause a commotion.” He motioned to the stump of my arm. “That will cause problems, too. Can you withdraw it inside your shirt?”

“Sure,” I said, working it underneath my clothing, “but what I meant is that we can’t take the maglev.”

“Why not?” Palador asked. “They’ll be fighting at my headquarters for some time. I’ll put my hand on you like you’re mine again, and no one will be any the wiser.”

“They’ll be looking for us. The maglev is a great place to start.”

“We’re wasting time,” Palador said. “You asked me to trust you before, now I ask you to do the same for me. I know how they think. Trust me.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. I trust you.”

“Good. Let’s go.” He led the way up the staircase.

“Why do you have staircases here if Stangors don’t do stairs?”

“We didn’t build most of the original buildings here,” Palador said over his shoulder. “Humans did. And Humans thought they’d be here forever as maintenance personnel. Turns out, their time here was considerably shorter than ‘forever,’ but the stairs—and the maintenance tunnels—remain.”

It took forever, and Palador grunted and groaned with the effort of making his body move in a way his physiology didn’t like, but eventually we reached the top of the stairs, and he opened the door. No one screamed, and there were no sounds of fighting or anything else untoward going on. “Perfect,” Palador said, looking at the schedule board across the lobby. “Go.”

I ducked my head and slumped my shoulders, trying to look unremarkable—or as unremarkable as a one-armed blue-skinned being with countless nicks and cuts from broken glass could be—and walked out. Palador put a hand on my shoulder and guided me in the right direction. With my peripheral vision, I could see that most people took a look at me and moved in the opposite direction. They didn’t know what was going on, but they knew it was something that would cost them their lives to ask about, so they simply moved on.

I couldn’t see much in front of us with my head down, but we reached the platform without anyone causing a commotion, and loaded into the last car of the maglev. Typically, that’s where the lower-class people went, which at first I thought was a bad idea, as we were more likely to get into trouble there. Then I realized that we were also less likely to be recognized in the poor car, which was probably why Palador had chosen it. A couple of toughs started moving in, and Palador removed his hand from my shoulder.

Before I could see it move, it returned with a heavy rail pistol—with another in his left hand—and the toughs decided it was a bad idea to challenge him and backed off. The pistols disappeared back into his clothes.

He turned and smiled at me. “See? No problems.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The rest of the trip went by quickly. We made it back to Palador’s stop, and he drove us the rest of the way back to his house in his hover car.

“When can I expect the rest of the payment?” Palador asked as he parked alongside my fighter. Happily, the minefield was still turned off, although I had no idea how he kept track of that.

“You can have it now,” I replied. I walked to an access panel about halfway down the port side of the fuselage, opened it, and pulled out a clear bag with two credit sticks inside it. I turned to find Palador staring at me, his mouth hanging open.

“You left . . . one billion credits in my back yard, without even a lock on it?”

“If you can’t leave it here, where can you leave it?” I shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like someone’s going to steal the fighter and go joyriding in it.”

“That happened about a kilometer from here, just last week. Someone stole a plane and crashed it. There was nothing left.”

“Really?” Now my jaw dropped, and a feeling of ultimate stupidity settled on my shoulders.

Palador nodded slowly. “It actually happened.”

I chuckled lamely. “Good thing no one took this one then, huh?”

“Good thing.” He held out a hand. “I’ll take those for a job well done.”

“It’s not done yet, though,” I said. “I don’t have the plans, and part of the deal was to ensure that the plans weren’t resident anywhere else.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He smiled and handed the two slates over. “This is the one from the presentation, and this is the one from the dungeon where Sokolov was being held.” He smiled. “Goochies are great for getting into places like that.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “And any other plans? What am I to tell my boss about the existence of those?”

Palador chuckled. “I don’t supposed you’d take my word for it that the plans you have are the only ones in existence?”

“Not a chance.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Are you really, really sure?”

“What are you, five years old?” I stared at him a moment. “No, I need confirmation.”

“Fine.” His smile grew as he went to the car and pulled out a slate. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He stood next to me and pushed a series of buttons on the pad.

A bright point of light came from the City. It quickly expanded into an explosion of brilliance that filled my field of vision. My left arm felt a wave of heat that rose like the sun coming out from behind the clouds—but then kept rising and rising. As it reached the point of being uncomfortable, it began to wane, and the light dimmed.

A large mushroom cloud rose over the horizon. For the second time in minutes, my jaw dropped as I spun back to Palador. “What the hell did you just do?”

“Everyone in that City would have been after us, including my own people. The City was a pit that needed to be dealt with.” He shrugged. “The mean streets of the City are gone along with any extra plans that the Boo’Grali might have had.” He winked at me. “I know you always thought the City should be destroyed. This is my contribution toward urban renewal.”


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Framed