[04] Elite: Mostly Harmless (24 page)

DORIS bristled with flashing LED lights but continued regardless. ‘My client’s debts were incurred before yours, so if anything is going to be repaid we are first in the queue.’

Eddie’s face turned pink with what Angel took to be rage. The congregation at the table tensed, waiting for his reaction. But instead of going ballistic he burst into hysterical peals of laughter. ‘Fine … Okay, you know what? Sure!’ he said once he’d regained enough control of his faculties to speak. ‘Why the devil not? You are such an infuriating collection of silicon and circuitry I actually feel sorry for my little Angel. So fine! I will add to the contract enough gold to pay you off and get you out of her hair - metaphorically speaking of course.’

Angel’s hand went to the side of her shaved head as Eddie winked at her comically. ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult as I still have the gold boxed up in the booty chamber from when we stole it from you in the first place!’

With this revelation he burst into laughter again, slapping Admin on the back so hard he choked on a mouthful of noodles. Angel glanced at Katherine, who just shrugged and picked up her drink. It was Sue who spoke once Eddie had regained some control again.

‘Seems like a fair deal given your form so far. Once your debt is cleared I can probably find you some work around here, keep you ticking over - especially if you have a vessel to run supplies and the occasional shipment of fugitives. Won’t make you rich but I get a decent enough throughput of people wanting to vanish in a hurry for a few creds.’

Angel swallowed hard. She’d never felt more like a pawn in some cosmic game she didn’t understand. But this did sound like a far more moderate way to clear up her debts than murder, piracy or becoming a whore. As outlandish as the mission Eddie was offering her was, it could be the final spacewalk to getting her life on track; back on an even keel with her at the helm again. She sucked on her bottom lip as the whole table stared at her, waiting for a reply.

‘Fine,’ she huffed eventually. ‘I’ll go get your damn book but then that has to be an end to it. I want
you
off my back,’ she turned and glared at the robot, ‘and
you
out of my life.’

‘Affirmative,’ DORIS replied. ‘Nothing would give me more pleasure.’

* * *

Few things are more unnerving than being spat out of hyperspace only to see your radar sweeper fill up with a swarm of angry red dots; Pirates - 
everywhere
. As Angel watched a sector map teeming with agents of the criminal underworld draw up on the Viper’s navigation grid she had to keep reminding herself she was one of them now. Despite the cold fist of fear tightening around her chest no-one in this whole area would be paying a blind bit of notice.
Nothing to see here, move along.
She was just another red dot of evil intent going about its every day unlawful business.

DORIS’s processors chucked into life. ‘We’ve landed approximately twenty-minutes pulse flight from LHS 412-IV. Thirty-seven ships are currently within short distance scanning range. The area is hot but so far no-one has conducted any more than a cursory sweep of our vessel. I calculate we have an eighty-three percent chance of reaching our destination unchallenged.’

 ‘You know the running commentary really isn’t helping? Every time you give me a percentage-chance success-rate all I can think about is the bit that’s left over. The seventeen percent chance of possible failure.’

DORIS sighed, insomuch as a robot is able to sigh. ‘Pessimism over objectivity; typical human flaw and one you seem to have a particular predilection for.’

 ‘I prefer to think of myself as risk averse; a trait I would have thought you in particular would appreciate.’

As the scanners finished their work mapping out the area, Angel powered up the thrusters and tapped her foot on the pedal. The Viper shuddered and the cockpit warmed instantly as the afterburners kicked in. She eased the flight stick forward as the navigation grid sketched out vectors on the heads-up display that would lead them to their target.

LHS 412-IV.

It was an inconsequential planet right at the heart of the LHS 412 star system. The planetary register showed the atmosphere to be breathable, although not exactly pleasant as elevated levels of sulphate anions gave the air an eggy taint. This also made the soil very acidic so not much that grew there was particularly tasty. This left the planet pretty much unpopulated and largely overlooked.
The perfect place to hide a secret,
thought Angel, scanning the register for notes for the planet’s gravity. Half-a-g; so the landing would be a comfortably soft but she wouldn’t need to weight her boots to stay on the ground. Her body-thrusters might even come in handy if she needed to ascend anything substantial. At half normal gravity she could just hover up instead. She plumbed in the coordinates from the contract Eddie had sent over and sat back in the command chair, breathing to calm her nerves.

The Viper’s name was
Heron’s Web
. It wasn’t as heavily armed as the last one she’d commandeered from Eddie’s fleet, but was still a pretty tasty ride. Unlike the Cobra -
Hope Falls
- that she’d started this adventure in, this ship was modern and well-maintained with reasonable thruster and shield upgrades and a spacious cargo hold; although she hadn’t explored beyond the cockpit so far personally. She ran her fingers over the smooth command console. It shone and twinkled in the light of the scrawling holograms and HUD display. No crusty build-up of granite dust and grime coated these panels, but no antique keyboard either. She missed the worn familiarity of the tray of plastic buttons. She could hardly believe all that had been just over a week ago. How her life had changed in such a short space of time.

One of the red blips on the radar pulsed a little brighter and a doleful warning tone warbled out of the speakers. Angel’s chest tightened. Numbers on a readout monitoring incoming scans jumped sharply upwards. They had caught the attention of a Gutamaya, presumably liberated from an Imperial fleet. It was heavily modified and bristled with big guns. Big guns that were starting to power up, by the way. The Gutamaya changed course to intercept, opening up a broadcast channel.

‘
Heron’s Web
, this is the
Rainbird Spook
. State your business, commander.’

Angel swallowed hard and looked at DORIS. The robot whirred but offered no particular encouragement.
Great. What now?
She had no idea what the protocol was this deep in the bad lands. Despite what her rep sheet would be telling anyone who cared to scan her, she had yet to break a single law let alone becoming a ruthless assassin with three cold-blooded kills under her belt. Did she need to have “business” to fly across a star system?

She flipped the comms link open, forcing her voice to sound calm, nonchalant even. ‘Chill your pods, I’m just here to refuel, let my hyperdrive cool down.’

White noise fizzed mistrustfully through the empty space between the ships. ‘You’re heading in the wrong direction for the sun. You have nothing but a couple of body pods in your hold. That smells of a pick up to me sugar, and I want to know what you’re picking up.’

Angel flicked off the channel and swung to face DORIS. ‘So much for my pessimism being called into account. We seem to be standing at the doorway of a seventeen percent chance of failure, any smart arse suggestions from you?’

DORIS whirred indignantly. ‘I cannot be expected to factor in the unfathomable depths of human stupidity with any degree of success. You
people
are enough to fry my circuits.’ DORIS said the word “people” as if it tasted bad on its lips. Not that the robot had lips of course, but the tone was unmistakable. ‘I also see little point in recriminations right now, since we are sitting in the crosshairs of a heavily armed enemy vessel which currently awaits your response.’

 ‘And I have just about heard enough of your pompous postulations. This would be a very good time to start proving your worth.’

‘Acid bath,’ DORIS said, simply.

Angel looked at the robot, the strain of failed comprehension folded across her face.

‘LHS 412-IV has a high atmospheric concentration of sulphate anions. This has made the soil acidic, which in turn has caused hydro-sulphuric immolations to form - acid pools in language you can understand - which happens to be a highly favourable compound for the disposal and decomposition of biological matter. You are an assassin with a couple of body pods in the hold. What might an assassin need to do with bodies, I wonder?’

The sarcasm in the robot’s tone was clear but as the penny dropped for Angel she completely forgot to be mad. She tapped the comms link open again.

‘I have some, ah … delicate loose ends to tie up down on LHS 412-IV. A senator and his mistress need to take a bath so they stay missing until after an election; otherwise I don’t collect on my contract.’

More white noise, but this time almost drowned out by the rush of adrenaline gushing through Angel’s ears. She held her breath, fingers hovering over the weapon’s control panel. She hadn’t powered up anything offensive yet as she figured it would make her seem guiltier. But she wasn’t about to roll over and go quietly if they decided to give her trouble. After what seemed like an eternity the voice drifted back over the comms link.

‘Right. Well make sure you move along after you’re finished or I’m going to have to insist on taxing you. The Mad Tycho crew runs this part of space so you can tell Mister Mental Eddie that Rob the Social Hammer said to keep his filthy paws off our narc suppliers.’

With no further niceties the comms link clicked off. The
Rainbird Spook
switched course away from her, powering down its big guns like a child losing interest in an insect it had been tormenting. Angel swore underneath her breath. Her ship,
Heron’s Web
, was painted with the Cypher Punk’s decal. Damn Eddie! He had almost got her killed without even being here, and would no doubt have blamed it on her. Sometimes she wondered if her luck was ever going to change for the better.

Chapter 24

Angel stood at the hatch with her hand on the lever, heart racing. DORIS had sealed itself in the inner chambers claiming that exposure to the planet’s atmosphere would be an oxidation hazard. Angel was relieved to be rid of it, but she couldn’t help lament the lost opportunity of seeing the infuriating robot rust to a standstill.

She pulled the metal handle down and the hydraulics clunked and hissed into action. The hatch popped outwards and to the side, then a long gassy sigh as the internal mechanism lowered the step ladder. The smell hit her instantly. She took an involuntary step backwards. The planetary register had describe an “eggy taint”; this felt more like walking into the path of a giant’s fart - a giant with a very unhealthy diet. She slammed her palm on the remlok trigger embedded in the shoulder of her flight-suit and the mask constructed itself around her face, encapsulating eyes, ears and breathing passages in a clear film-contained micro-atmosphere of sweet, fresh air. It was a bit of an extravagance, especially for Angel, as the emergency mask was very expensive to recharge. But she was damned if she was going to walk around in that atrocious stench. Besides, Eddie was picking up the bill - so what the hell, right?

Feeling pleased with the rebellious streak she seemed to be cultivating she breathed deeply of the sweet, filtered air and stepped back up to the open hatch. Peering around, she saw a barren place. The co-ordinates had directed her to land in a glade; a sparse scatter of feeble trees tucked away in a nook of a rocky outcrop. The whole area looked like a mountain had just crumbled away into rubble, no longer able to bear standing in such an odorous place. In between the fallen rocks and boulders the ground was chalky and granular with brown and yellow grasses sprouting in unenthusiastic clumps. They were most concentrated around the edges of several bubbling pools filled of thick chalky-looking liquid that let off a visible gas and seemed to be hissing slightly.

Ignoring the steps Angel leapt out of the hatch, touching down as lightly as a ballerina about twenty-feet away. She liked the feeling at such low gravity so she gave the thrusters embedded in her suit a quick burst and leapt back up to a height of about fifteen-feet. A small tree stood alone in the centre of the glade, so feeling like a kid in a zero gravity playroom she decided to see if she could jump it. Body poised to recoil like a spring she touched down with deeply bent knees and then kicked off giving the heel and elbow thrusters a blast. She launched her body towards the top of tree. She was going to make it easily so decided to add some flair by tucking her knees up tight to her chest to execute what she guessed would be a pretty spectacular somersault over its crown.

She almost made it too; was just starting to unfurl her body after the second revolution so that her toes could lead the charge neatly back down to the ground when a webbing strap from her flight suit got snagged on a branch. Her elegant flight halted abruptly and she wound up dangling helplessly off a branch for an embarrassingly long time. In the end Angel managed to hoist herself up so that she could unhook the strap and fall back down to the ground. Her landing was slow-motion soft, but that didn’t make it any less undignified. Especially given how she had come to be stuck. Pride comes before a fall, she reminded herself bitterly, and made a mental note never to have the audacity to forget her life was miserable and start having anything that looked like fun.

* * *

The cave she sought was etched into a massive boulder, a short climb up a craggy embankment not far away from the landing site. Quite a few of the pungent-looking pools were scattered about so she made the prudent decision to climb to her destination under her own steam rather than risk any more fancy thruster work. Inside was a shallow cavern, muggy and dim at first but as her eyes adjusted she found herself looking at a manmade structure; a circular platform just big enough for a person to stand on encircled by a handrail at waist-height. Hanging above the rail and over the platform was a pair of gloves, attached to fine filament of mechanical arms that were suspended from a box overhead. A third, thicker arm presented a pull down skull cap with full-face mask. It was an old fashioned rig, but Angel recognised it as a virtual reality set-up, giving users restricted mobility and viewpoint around a computer generated 3-D environment. A thick film of chalky dust covered everything but Angel could just make out the shape of a bank of computers that must run the VR rig. There was also the massive looming form of a vault door on the right. She edged deeper into the shallow cavern, brushing the dust off the front of one of the computers.