Hardshellz Page 15

CHAPTER 10. SHELL SEARCHING.

  What? I pressed it again and again but nothing happened.

  "Shoot it off?" Çrámerr suggested.

  I shook my head. No. That would be a sure-fire way of attracting unwanted attention. Knocking on the door, I used my voice modifier implant – a complete waste of money until now – and called, "Lerrus in, pal. Gorra 'nother load 'ere." For some reason I'd adopted a Röötherspherian accent. I banged on the door again making it rattle.

  Then the light turned green and the gate slid up on its runners. A pirate – an tall, thin ape-man with a multitude of facial piercings – stood within. He blinked in confusion when he saw us standing there but no anti-grav truck. He cottoned on quickly when I shoved my Maz-Blazter into his chest, making him stumble backwards. Immediately, we followed and Çrámerr hit the door panel, lowering the gate again.

  "Eh, wherras t'big shell tha' yuz tuk?"

  The pirate blinked and looked me with confusion. So did Çrámerr and Julianna. I'd left that stupid accent on. Deactivating the implant, I spoke again.

  "Where's the giant sea shell you took from the President P Porter?"

  "I don't know," the man said.

  "Then you're no use to us." I aimed the Maz-Blazter at his forehead and tightened my grip on the trigger.

  "Wait! Wait!" he cried out.

  Funny how imminent death improves memory.

  "You mean the shell some rich dude paid sixty-six million for?"

  "You've got more than one here?" I asked.

  "No! I mean, we were all talking about it. That's the reason we attacked your ship. It's in the strong house."

  It would be. "Take us to it," I ordered him. "And no silly ideas about radioing your buddies."

  The pirate looked around nervously. "You'll never get away."

  "All factored in," Çrámerr said, gesturing with his pistol towards the still open gate. Given no choice, the pirate started walking.

  What do they say about fortune favouring the bold? Even if it doesn't always feel like it at the time. Just as we approached the still open gate, an anti-grav truck entered. It was loaded with salvaged machine parts or something. The driver pulled up and saw immediately what was going down. He flung himself out of the seat and combat rolled across the Konkreet floor drawing his pistol as he did so. Both Çrámerr and I fired at him, the blasts gouging craters out the floor and scattering red-hot chunks of Konkreet in all directions. The pirate returned fire and I felt the heat of his shot as it missed my head by centimetres.

  Instinctively, I dived backwards, but needn't have worried. Çrámerr's next shot caught the pirate on the upper thigh almost severing the limb as well as cauterising the wound. Even through our nasal filters, there was a smell of roast meat. The pirate screamed with pain. Stepping forwards, Çrámerr took aim and blew the man's head into red atoms.

  "You like your head shots, don't you?" I said.

  "Extra points," he said callously.

  Crossing behind the truck, I dropped the tailgate then ran around to the front. Sliding behind the joystick I tilted up the nose of the truck until all the parts tumbled out the back and fell with a clatter onto the Konkreet. I wasn't too worried about noise as the incessant pounding of the rain masked anything short of a meteor strike.

  Julianna got in the passenger seat leaving Çrámerr and the pirate to climb up into the flatbed. Çrámerr kept his Blazter jammed tight into the pirate's ribs.

  "Strong house," I said over my shoulder as I backed the truck out the warehouse. As soon as we were outside, rain slashed down, washing over us. If I got out of this, I was booking a vacation to the nearest desert world.

  His eyes white in his dark apish face, the pirate directed us away from the line of warehouses – and away from the bunch still dealing with the meteor impact.

  "What security do they have?" I asked.

  "Usual, I guess," the pirate replied. "Electronic sensors and there's always two men posted inside."

  What I'd figured. The main danger here was some light-fingered pirate helping himself to the valuables as there was nobody else around for light years. We drove down a narrow gap between two metallic buildings and saw the strong house. It stood on its own and I spotted CCTV cameras mounted on the corners under the eaves and a remotely operated machine gun on the roof.

  Looking as if we belonged, we drove straight up to the front gate. As we did so, I noticed the CCTV cameras adjust their angle to keep us in focus. Somebody inside was on the ball. Touching helmets with the pirate, I told him that his job was to get us inside. After that, we'd take it from there. But if we didn't get in..., I made a throat-slitting gesture.

  The pirate pressed the intercom above the door keypad. "It's Chabbat here; got some more stuff for you."

  "Whose that with you?" a tinny voice sounded from the intercom.

  "The hired help – who do you think? Some of this stuff is heavy."

  There was a pause. I reckon brainpower isn't always needed for a career in piracy. "We've got robots for that," the man said eventually.

  "It's delicate gear – fragile," I butted in. "Has to be handballed. You with me?"

  There was another pause but then the door light flashed green and the airlock opened. Thinking about it, I reckoned the pirates had become lax and overconfident. After all, they'd never had any trouble on Sepharvaim before.

  I glided the truck into the airlock and we waited anxiously until the atmosphere changed and the inner door opened. Pushing the joystick forward, we glided out of the airlock and into the strong house. Two pirates – both in ordinary clothes stepped forwards followed by a multi-armed cargo-bot.

  "Alright, Chab, – what've you got for us?" one said. He was a burly, ape-man who sported a droopy 'tache. My shot took him in the chest, killing him instantly. Çrámerr's shot came a split second later, decapitating the second. Blood, brains and bits of bone sprayed out from his ruined head. Both bodies hit the floor at the same time.

  "Don't believe it – another head shot," I said with some admiration.

  "Making the difficult easy," he boasted. Think that was one of Economou's advertising slogans some time ago.

  Glancing back, I saw Julianna had her hand to her face – well, her helmet but it comes to the same thing.

  "I'm sorry but we couldn't let them live," I said softly. "Hang in there – we'll be away from here soon."

  The cargo-bot stood there, its metal arms and grabbers hanging still. There was no threat from that quarter. We jumped down from the truck and I gestured for the pirate to get down, too. Grabbing a roll of duct tape from the truck, I bound the man's hands tightly behind him as well us taking off his helmet and gagging him. That would stop him radioing for help.

  Then we realised we may have been a bit quick offing the pirates. The strong house wasn't large – maybe twenty metres by twenty. There was an office up a flight of metal stairs but the rest of the building was crammed with crates and boxes. Some were piled haphazardly about while others were stacked neatly on shelves that lined the building. More full shelves stretched down the centre aisle.

  "We'll never find it in time," Julianna said. "But we've got to get it back for Sava."

  I peered about. I remembered that Sava's crate was brown and covered with lading and customs labels. Trouble was, there was literally hundreds of similar crates in this room.

  "Maybe we'll find it on the computer?" I wondered. "Julianna, check the office while Çrámerr and I search down here." We might get lucky – it might be one of the first boxes we checked.

  "I think it's in the middle somewhere," Chabbat volunteered.

  Well, that gave us a clue. Not a lot but a bit of a hint. What's that word Çrámerr uses? Incentivise? That's it. Incentivise. "If you show us where it is – and help us get away – then I'll make sure Sava sorts you out a big reward. New ID, loads of money, new life on some pleasure-planet. Slaves if you want them. Got to beat Sepharvaim."

  "He's the big cheese – he can do it," Çrámerr added. "An
d I can get Economou to transport you anywhere in the Arm – no paperwork, no nothing."

  I've never seen anyone's eyes light up so much. Evidently the idea of leaving this crew and this horrible world behind appealed. He hurried down the centre aisle eagerly scanning the crates. Çrámerr and I followed behind.

  In all the excitement, I guess we forgot Julianna. We were reminded of her when she screamed – her shriek echoing around the building. Wheeling around, at the top of the staircase we saw some huge guy with arms like – well, he was a cyborg and his arms were metal with tendons like hawsers. Ruby eyes flashed from his ruined face above a mouth filled with razor-sharp fangs. A man who could terrorise a whole load of civvies by his appearance alone. One arm was wrapped around Julianna's neck while the other contained a laser attachment which was pointing directly at me.

  "Drop your weapons and walk towards me slowly. You too, Chabbat." His voice was harsh and metallic. "Or I'll tear her head off and use it as a bowling ball."

  He could do that so there wasn't much we could do about it. With Julianna blocking his body, it would be a difficult – almost impossible – shot. Only the side of his head, a hideous amalgam of flesh and metal was exposed. I dropped my pistol and in the silence its clatter as it fell sounded loudly. So this was the end. Soon the rest of the pirates would notice our absence and come looking for us. And when they found us, after the trouble we'd caused, I didn't think they would bother with our ransoms.

  Somehow, I always knew my end would be squalid and violent. But I didn't like the thought of failing in my mission. Arms outstretched, I walked towards the office.

  A blast of super-heated plasma shot over my head and I felt my hair char as it passed. An instant later, the bolt smashed right into the pirate's face. Molten metal sprayed out as the back of his head blew off. There was a sound of high-pitched electronic feedback and then the cyborg keeled over, dragging Julianna down with him.

  I snapped around to behold Çrámerr grinning widely, still in his shooter's stance. "Another headshot. You took a big risk there."

  "Always aiming to please," Çrámerr said, still grinning. That was another one of Economou's slogans. "I had this clone enhanced with a hyper-reality program. Lets me zero in with pin-point accuracy, among other things. Mostly, it lets me focus better. Great for decision making."

  I'd heard of that program – it's on the cutting edge of technology but a rich man – or a clone – like Çrámerr could easily afford it. We ran upstairs and with difficulty freed Julianna from the dead cyborg's embrace.

  Her protective suit was charred and blobs of metal adhered to the surface and underneath its skin, she was trembling and shaking but holding it together well. Not being fully hi-man and subject to their programming, maybe gynoids don't fear death as much. After all, are they truly alive? I don't know. Or was she simply a strong woman who didn't scream with panic? But I didn't have time to ponder the question. We had to find Sava's crate and get out of here before the rest of the pirate crew swarmed round our ears.

  We stepped into the office. It was filthy, the floor littered with food and drink cartons and the walls covered with pornographic holo-images culled from the dark depths of the Galactoweb. It smelled like an armpit. However, the terminal was displaying a schematic of the strong house. Brushing away an empty drinks-sac, Julianna leaned over the terminal and typed in the word 'shell'.

  It brought up eighteen hits – but most of them were for ammunition which was stored in a separate warehouse. She scrolled through the rest but nothing looked suitable.

  "Input Sava?" Çrámerr suggested.

  Various items with the phrase 'sava' in the word popped up. Gems from Savannah's mines, an original painting of savage dryads in Grenard's forested world by a famous artist – who spends more time in the gossip columns than in her studio – and even some of the new 'Savant' computer programs. They'd be worth taking with us. I know a few people who'd take them, no questions asked. I made a mental note of their location.

  "Try kississ?" I said.

  Bingo. One item only – third shelf at the end.

  We clattered back downstairs. Then I remembered something crucial and I could have kicked myself. Chabbat. We hadn't dragged him up to the office with us. I heard the airlock cycle through the last of its program. Somehow, while we were fighting, he had freed himself and gone to seek help.

  "I'll get the truck, you two find the shell," I ordered, even as I ran for the truck. Fortunately, it was still where we'd left it – Chabbat had simply legged it. Swinging into the driver's seat, I gripped the joystick, elevated the truck and it hovered over towards the third shelf.

  Çrámerr and Julianna had found the crate and were pushing it towards the shelf's edge. It had it's own anti-gravity unit to help with manual handling and so was effectively weightless. I backed the truck to the edge of the shelf and they slid it onto the flatbed. Julianna switched off the anti-gravity unit and the crate settled down. She took her place by my side while Çrámerr crouched in the flatbed.

  "Let's get out of here," I said, hoping we hadn't left it too late. Chabbat would be spilling his guts any time now and we could expect the pirates to show up mob-handed. I steered the truck into the airlock, pressed the button and waited for it to do its thing. My fingers were drumming on the console and I willed myself to stop. There was nothing I could do about the situation, little though I liked it.

  "Hope the shuttle hasn't left without us," I muttered.

  "Bad career move. They'll be massively blamestormed." Glancing back, I saw Çrámerr peering down the barrel of his Maz-Blazter. No, it would be a mistake to leave a V-P of Economou behind unless they had absolutely no choice.

  Outside, rain lanced down in the light cast by arc-lamps. Looking around I pointed the joystick at the hangars and took the truck up to its top speed. Which wasn't fast.

  Too late. All the alarms went off.