Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Leverage

Wesley gaped as the contact and her partner incapacitated his crew. He forced words past his trembling lips. “Please stop.”

Kashara stood over a dazed Dash as she pressed her boot into his stomach. Osric pulled a lightweight miner’s filtration mask from his jacket and placed it over Gaius’s nose and mouth. A small cartridge was attached to the side. Wesley recognized it as some homemade alteration to allow for gaseous medicinal distribution. The Manore then removed the pistol from Gaius’s torso holster. He swapped it for a stunner wand from his hip pocket and moved toward Wesley.

“That won’t be necessary, will it, Wesley?” Kashara said.

Wesley tried to respond, but his mouth wouldn’t move. He backed away from the commotion until his spine pressed against the cold window of the suite. Memories of his foundation studies, where older boys had harassed him in the halls, came to life. The long-buried feeling of helplessness left him paralyzed.

“A wise decision,” Kashara said. She nodded at Osric. “Please return the captain to his seat.”

The Manore grunted and helped the dazed captain into the chair at the desk. Osric left him slumped in the seat and bent to retrieve the headset from the prostrate Gaius.

“You have business to attend to,” Kashara said.

Osric grumbled, but left the gear alone. He knelt by Tinker, opened its maintenance port, and inserted a nodestick. Then he pulled an unusually thick datapad clad in a rugged shell from his belt.

“We have matters to discuss,” Kashara said to Wesley.

The medtech looked to the slumped forms of his crew. “I must insist that you stop harming my crewmembers.” He heard surprising authority in his voice.

Kashara smiled at his sudden defiance. “Why do you care about these haulers? You barely know them.”

“I pledged my services to them. My faith and morals command I honor my word. We must resolve this situation without further violence.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m quite blunt.” She pulled a stunner from her jacket and touched it to Dash’s chest. He went rigid, limbs twitching. She let up. “I know why your previous captain pawned you and this job off to Dash. You’re trying very hard to not be found.”

Wesley swallowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kashara smiled. “I think you do. Three men scour the station for a young blond-haired Human male, fresh off a freighter. It’s quite clear the bounty is you.” She walked a slow circle around Wesley. “Bounty hunters, recovery agents, whatever you want to call them. Yet, I see no bounty for you on GalaxyNet. That means their client wants the bounty kept quiet, which is an expensive arrangement. Someone must really want you.”

Wesley felt his insides quiver. The agents had reached the station faster than he and Boran had anticipated. The thought of his capture was more terrifying than the danger staring at him. He collected himself and projected the calmest face he could muster. “That is quite the story, but I’m afraid I’m not the one they seek.”

She stopped in front of him and leaned close. “You’re young to be a licensed medtech. Which means you are undoubtedly talented. But you’re a horrible liar.”

“This thing ain’t working,” Osric said, frowning at the datapad. “Are you sure it’s legit?”

“Dockmaster Porter delivered it to me from lockup. His tech assured me it will allow us to gain control of the bot.”

“Why bother? This thing is junk.”

“You know the guild needs all the bots it can get its hands on. Now, shut up and keep trying.” Kashara paced around Wesley. “Now, why would someone go to such extremes to get their hands on you? Did you commit some heinous crime? Or do you know sensitive information? It doesn’t matter. The question is, what to do with you now? The bounty must be quite large. I could turn you in for a share of that. Or we can come to another arrangement. Should I keep talking?”

Seeing no other choice, Wesley nodded his head.

“The guild could use someone like you. We have a sizable population of unemployed workers. Proper healthcare, specifically medication, helps to keep them agreeable until we can find alternative means for employment,” she said and pointed to Gaius.

The pilot’s head lolled side to side, his eyes peeking happily from beneath heavy lids. “Attack pattern delta,” he mumbled, his drug-induced euphoria still landing him in his Galaxy Battles sim world.

Kashara went on. “We’ll put you up in a nice facility, safe from these bounty hunters. You will be paid handsomely. The bot will come with us. We will retrofit it to serve as your own customized medbot. As for your ex-captain here, he will realize his mistake and accept our offer for him to work off his debt. Everyone is happy in the end, save for the bounty hunters, who will never find you.”

Kashara stopped behind the doctor. She placed her firm hands on his shoulders. “I know it’s a lot to digest, but I speak the truth.” She stepped in front of him and looked him in the eye. “So, what is your answer?”

Another moment from university cut through the fog in Wesley’s mind. Not of angst, but of a rare moment of bonding. He sat with the first group of students to accept him—the youngest student in history—as a peer. They told tall tales of medtechs who worked for criminal enterprises—patching up thugs, cooking up alterants, and implanting illegal bio-mods in the higher-ups. And here he was, living those tales. Even if what Kashara spoke was true, the guild would always have leverage on him. They could threaten to turn him in to station security, or even Praxa SecForce, whenever he didn’t do what they wanted. He would be a slave in a way, same as Dash if he accepted the contract. 

Wesley shook his head. “I reject your offer. I stay with my crew. So does Tinker. We must discuss another resolution.”

“Told you he’d say no,” Osric said, still frowning at his datapad.

Kashara sighed and stepped away from Wesley. “Fine. We do this the hard way. Osric, it’s your turn.”

Osric left the datapad on the floor and stood up to his full height. He walked toward Wesley with a wicked sneer. Wesley shifted, keeping the desk between him and Osric. The Manore came around one side of the desk. Wesley hesitated, then dashed around the other. He dodged Kashara’s outstretched hand, ran to the door, and slapped the access panel. It flashed a locked symbol.

“Going somewhere?” Kashara said in a mocking tone.

Wesley gasped. He was trapped. 

Osric closed in, sucking on his lips as he savored the moment. Wesley shifted to the entertainment alcove. It would only delay the inevitable. His foot bumped into something, and he looked down to find Gaius’s headset. 

Osric halted his approach. “Careful with that.”

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The image of those bullying seniors returned. Wesley had forgotten—no, buried—that particular memory. The one where they took his grandfather’s antique watch and smashed it to bits. He raised a foot and held it over the headset. “One more step, and I crush your prize.”

Osric’s beady eyes glazed with fear. “Don’t you dare.”

“Stay back,” Wesley said. His eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out. He spotted the couch and what had fallen beneath it.

“Would you get on with it?” Kashara said.

“He might break the headset,” Osric said.

“Not if you break him first.”

Osric’s eyes darted between Wesley and the headset. Then he lunged.

Wesley stomped on the headset as hard as he could. Osric cried out as if the device were his own foot. Wesley slapped the entertainment panel, pushed off the wall, and dove beneath Osric’s grasp in a textbook rumbleball slide. 

Osric tried to adjust. His foot caught on the hologram projector rising from the floor, and he fell.

Wesley threw himself over the couch. He heard a sharp crack, but the sound had not come from him. Rather than try to discern the source, he snatched Dash’s gun from beneath the couch. He spun around to face his assailants.

Osric snarled. “Look what you made me do.” He held up the cracked headset.

“Don’t move. Both of you,” Wesley said. He swept the gun back and forth between them. His nerves left the weapon shaking despite his two handed grip.

Kashara’s eyes snapped to the fat barrel pointed at her. “Even if the weapon was loaded, at this range, you’d blow away your captain along with me.”

“Don’t test me,” Wesley said. He struggled to steady his trembling hands.

Osric straightened to full height. Wesley aimed at him. “Freeze!” the medtech said, and realized his mistake when Kashara slipped behind Dash.

Wesley brought his aim back to Kashara. “Let him go.”

“Take him in one piece,” Kashara said to her partner. “If he doesn’t want to cooperate, we can turn him in to the agents and collect the reward ourselves.”

Osric’s scowl was now a bloodthirsty grin. “You’re going to regret what you did,” he said.

Wesley had never fired a gun before, but the holo targeting sight made the process supposedly foolproof. His mind seemed to disconnect from his body, as if to absolve itself of the imminent violence. He asked the Lords for forgiveness as his finger squeezed the trigger.

Time seemed to stop as Wesley heard the dull click of an empty magazine. Osric froze, clearly stunned that the young man had actually tried to kill him. Then his temperament retook control. He growled and charged at the medtech.

With nothing left but primal fear, Wesley screamed and hurled the weapon. It smashed into Osric’s face with the distinct crack of something expensive breaking. The giant dropped to his knees as he cried in agony. Blood seeped from a gash on his forehead. The weapon spun in the air like a loose rumbleball. It landed in Wesley’s outstretched hands. Osric lunged again in a seething rage, a blood-smeared monster in a horror vid. Wesley watched from outside his body as his arm swung the pistol. The grip struck flesh, and Osric collapsed to the floor.

Wesley stared in horror at the bloodstained pistol in his grasp. His fingers went numb as he registered his deed, and the weapon fell from his grip. He lifted his head and met Kashara’s startled face. “Forget the reward. That will be the last mistake you ever make,” she said, and reached for her pistol.

Wesley wanted to speak. To say he hadn’t meant to do it, that he had no choice. No words came. As he watched the barrel rise toward his head, he wondered if his death would end up a tall tale told in hushed tones at his alma mater. If anyone would find out the truth about why he fled. If Jo, and the others, his dear friends, would ever find out what happened to him. But then Dash came to life and threw himself into the woman. They fell to the ground, wrestling over the gun.

“Don’t make me hit a lady!” Dash growled.

“Your loss,” Kashara said. She rolled atop him and struck a brutal elbow blow.

Wesley rushed forward to help. She saw him coming and swung the pistol his way, Dash flailing for her arm. 

Wesley’s stomach turned as he stared down the barrel. He shut his eyes and instinctively curled inward, accepting his end. A presence loomed behind him as heat and pressure washed over his face and a roar filled his ears. He inhaled sharply, somehow still alive, and then he was shoved from behind. The looming presence pushed him to the floor as Kashara cried out and threw up her arms. He landed facedown, a mass across his back.

Looking behind him, he found his waist pinned under Osric’s legs, the Manore’s torso lying atop Kashara and Dash. Osric’s lifeless eyes stared back, a hole in his forehead. Kashara had shot her partner in error.

The contact groaned. She shifted beneath Osric’s limp form, pulling her upper body free. Wesley tried to move, but his numb body wouldn’t cooperate. One of her arms popped out from beneath Osric, holding the pistol.

Wesley watched her aim the gun at Dash’s head. 

“Please don’t,” Wesley pleaded.

Kashara grinned wickedly at him. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. She reached for her thick neck, and Wesley spotted the shard of broken headset, the rest of it still clutched in Osric’s fist.

“Wait!” Wesley cried out as her fingers found the broken piece. She yanked it free, and a gout of hot liquid shot out and drenched Wesley’s face. He touched his forehead, saw the red liquid on his palm, tasted the bitter iron on his lips, and heard the gurgle from the dying contact. His last thoughts were of Jo’s soft touch and gentle voice before he fell into blackness.

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