Chapter 63: Chapter 25: Converging on Target

The three agents reached the ramp at the end of the elevated walkway and stopped. They scanned the crowd in the plaza below. Music blared from somewhere on the opposite side. Passing civilians had to step around them.

“You’re blocking traffic,” someone chirped at the agents. Parr not so politely told them to go around. The group stopped, blocking even more pedestrian traffic on the walkway, and approached the agents. Parr pivoted his gaze from the plaza to the group. Whatever they saw in his eyes made them spin around and continue on their way.

Cutter watched them go, then shifted his focus back to Parr. The man was insufferable, but somehow also vital to the pursuit. On the one hand, Parr had antagonized the officers. On the other, he’d also quite literally walked the agents right out of the confrontation. For all the man’s aggravations, his bullheadedness continued to aid them. Apparently the Envoy knew what he were doing in hiring all three.

Still, it wasn’t an arrangement Cutter wished to find himself in again.

He resumed his search of the plaza. He spotted the transportation lanes on the other side of the plaza, then the loading zones. Parked in the nearest one were three buses. Lights flashed atop the middle one while a Slyvarkian in a flight suit danced on the roof. He moved his arms as if shooting imaginary pistols. A small crowd below waved their hands and cheered him on.

“There’s our famous Wing Commander,” Bloek said. “He’s having himself a grand old time.”

Parr squinted. “How are these the same deviants who murdered mining guild members in some shady contract negotiation gone bad?”

Bloek pointed over his shoulder. “Don’t forget about the warehouse. Might’ve been them too.”

“We don’t know what this crew is truly capable of. That’s why we need to proceed with caution. We’ll move in for a closer look. No one does anything until my signal,” Cutter said, and looked to each of his partners for acknowledgement. Bloek nodded in return, then Parr.

They reached the bottom of the ramp and headed in the direction of the loading zone. A long, dense line stuck out from a nearby club. The agents skirted around it.

“Warp Speed. I heard that place is great,” Bloek said.

“We can stop in once we prove this is a dead end,” Parr said.

“Your optimism is appreciated,” Cutter said. He focused on the crowd, and the Slyvarkian atop the bus. There was a hunt to finish.

Cutter weaved through the crowd like a bird gliding between trees. More civilians slowed to observe the spectacle in the plaza. Bodies pressed in. Cutter drew measured breaths, and clamped down on his discomfort. He never liked crowds.

A flash of motion appeared in his periphery—determined movement in the direction of the buses. A pair of men caught his eye, slightly ahead and to the side of the agents. One of them glanced his way. They locked eyes. The hostile intent swirling in the man’s eyes was all too familiar to Cutter. His hand moved toward his weapon of its own volition. He pinged the other agents. “Possible hostiles, ahead right.”

Parr and Bloek acknowledged him.

The noise of the crowd dropped away. The agents skimmed around a food cart operated by a jolly Ghupto. They palmed their weapons beneath their jackets. It was the worst possible place for a shootout, but they weren’t going to be on the losing end if it came to that.

The crowd nearby split apart, revealing a pair of security carts with flashing lights. Six SecForce officers and two security bots hopped off and placed themselves directly in the path of the agents.

“Hold it right there!”

---

Red One glanced back and saw the SecForce officers surrounding three tough-looking men. He removed his hand from the pistol in his pocket and announced to his partner, “We’re clear.”

“Who are they?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” They were almost to the loading zone. Only a food cart with a long line blocked the way.

“Coming through,” One said, and barged in. Someone cursed at them. They reached the loading zone. The last of the crew from the club were boarding the bus. The Slyvarkian concluded his show and climbed down through the roof access panel. The people inside cheered wildly at his entrance.

One stepped over a waist-high rail and approached the open door. The last of the crew turned to face him. It was the newcomer, the younger woman. Her eyes twitched when she spotted him. She said, “Sorry, no public refreshers in here.”

Her voice was even, but One couldn’t tell if she knew his intent. He said, “This party looks like a good time. We want to join in,” and nodded at his partner.

“Sorry. Private event,” the woman said. She stepped backward into the bus and tapped the door panel.

One stuck his hand in the gap, halting the door closure. “It’s the Slyvarkian’s birthday, right? We’ll pay extra, a gift for him.”

“It’s not his birthday, and as I said, a private event.” She pushed his hand out of the gap, and the door closed.

One clenched his jaw as the bus maneuvered out of the loading zone. That was a blunder. Not only had they been denied, but now they couldn’t approach the crew without coming across as suspicious. He swallowed the frustration of his mistake and walked farther up the loading lane, his partner in pursuit. He ordered a two-seater personal transport.

“We’re dating now?” Two said as the transport rolled up.

One stared at his partner, a perpetual wiseass. Two’s smirk quickly faded. They climbed in and waited for the bus to merge into traffic. One updated the Controller.

“Stay on them,” the Controller said. “The captain set up a new drop site with his client. Apparently he didn’t take my warning seriously. I’ve deployed assets to intercept. We should have the package shortly, and the captain dealt with.”

“What about the crew? There’s other people on the bus besides them.”

“They’ll have to return to their ship soon with the lockdown in effect. Once they’re all there, we’ll terminate them all. Other witnesses can be considered expendable.”

One glanced at his partner and finally offered a smile. “We’ll be ready.”

---

Surrounded by SecForce officers and bots, Cutter stared at the face of Port Authority Commander Severion on the lead officer’s datapad and knew to keep his mouth shut. To compensate, he fantasized about doing horrible things to that crybaby SecForce sergeant who filed a complaint and had the agents tracked down.

“While I agree with you that the SecForce officers pushed the boundaries of professional courtesy, it doesn’t forgive the fact that you assaulted them,” Severion said.

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Parr and Bloek remained silent on either side of Cutter. People in the crowd observed with casual curiosity the lack of excitement within the circle of officers, then went about their business. The attention left Cutter anxious. He said, “The only assault, ma’am, was the officer placing their hands on one of my partners. It was unfortunate that they tripped in the process—”

“Don’t try that bullshit on me. I saw the PD footage,” she said, pleasantly surprising him with her gruffness for someone of her position. He would’ve appreciated it more had he not been on the receiving end.

“Then you also saw the officers attempting to detain three licensed recovery agents without cause. I’d hate to have to file a formal complaint. I know how much formwork is involved with those. And how such complaints tend to complicate matters for the commanders in charge of the officers involved.”

Hints of wrinkles appeared near Severion’s eyes and mouth as her face tightened. “Do I need to be concerned about your business here on Praxa Prime?”

“No, ma’am.”

Cutter could see the disbelief written on her face, but she didn’t press on the matter. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to pay a fine for the misdemeanor of littering. The officers there will process the payment, and you will be on your way. This will be the last time we see each other, as you’ll be concluding your confidential business as fast as possible before returning to your ship. Understood?” Severion paused, her eyes searching expectantly for any sign of resistance or an incoming outburst from Cutter. He knew better than to take the bait.

“We agree with your proposal, ma’am,” he said. She nodded curtly and closed the comm.

The lead officer held out his datapad to Parr. “Your fine is logged here. You may read it over if you wish. Please confirm and provide payment. Since it is a minor infraction, all personal data is scrubbed every cycle. We save the anonymized arrest data for record keeping and analytics.”

Cutter doubted the personal data would actually be scrubbed, but he wasn’t going to argue.

Parr said, “This is fu—”

“Just confirm it so we can leave,” Bloek said.

Parr input the payment approval and placed his hand on the datapad. The officers said goodnight, climbed onto their carts, and disappeared into the surrounding crowd.

“Crooks,” Parr said. “I’m billing that to the client.”

Cutter led them through the lively crowd until they reached the empty loading zone. Two blocks down, one of the buses disappeared around a bend behind a small cluster of food vendors. Cutter opened the transportation portal and ordered three personal transports. The buses circled the commercial district at that late hour. It wouldn’t be hard to track them down. It was only a matter of finding the right one. “We’ll split up and tail each one. With the lockdown, they’ll be forced back to their ship soon enough. We observe until we get a positive ID on the target. Then we take him.”

“You think the shady pair were other agents brought on by the client?” Bloek asked.

“No,” Cutter said, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he believed it. But there was no sense in letting the hypothetical distract from their mission.

“Whoever they are, if they mess with us, they’re going down,” Parr said.

The transports arrived in the loading zone. As each man climbed inside, Cutter said, “Let’s get this done.”

---

The music’s tempo escalated. Pop hits, courtesy of Lady Starlight. The lights and displays followed in sync, creating the illusion of flying through space. At least, an illusion as close as one could get while sitting inside a bulbous bus trotting around a commercial district.

Milia settled into the absurdly comfortable couch, and took in the spectacle from the periphery. Gaius sat in the midst of fifteen of his Galaxy Battle followers, retelling his latest virtual adventures. A tall husky blond woman—wearing a colorful dress and copious amounts of makeup—was by his side. She watched him with an enamored stare, absorbing every word. Opposite him, a pair of wiry identical male twins fidgeted with glee. An Eviun bobbed its feather-crested head as Gaius waved his hands about, describing a ferocious dogfight. A Crekzel shimmied its tentacles in beat with the music. Gaius then enlisted one of the twins for aiding his next story, earning an envious glare from the enamored blond. How he’d laid a trap by allowing a fleet of his cargo haulers to be captured, only to have installed redundant tracking beacons aboard. The thief, CigarChompinCorsair, had inadvertently revealed to Gaius—or Wing Commander SexySlyOnYourSix as was his name within the game—the location of their secret asteroid hideout. Gaius raided it, leaving behind only a single pallet of medical supplies. A sentientarian gesture, he proclaimed, to ease the pain and suffering of CigarChompinCorsair’s humiliating defeat.

His followers roared in laughter and celebrated their hero’s victory.

Next to Milia, the ops crew half listened while perusing the sustenance options. A bot server arm glided along a recessed track in the ceiling, retrieved Brock’s order from the kiosk at the back of the bus, and delivered the colorful beverage to his eager hands. He took a hearty drink, and sighed. “Milia, it’s official now. This was the greatest idea you’ve ever had.”

“She hasn’t even been part of the crew for a cycle yet,” Henrik observed.

“I told you I deliver on my promises,” Milia said.

“Stop pouting and pick something,” Rosalie said to Henrik, who rolled his eyes and received a sharp jab in the shoulder. “Do that again and I’ll throw your unappreciative ass off this bus.”

Henrik nursed his shoulder. “I outrank you.”

“There’s no rank on this bus.”

Milia had yet to hear from Dash, who should’ve been meeting with the client at any moment. Depending on the outcome, she might walk off that bus and try to find her own way off the station. Until then, she needed everyone to stay aboard. She said, “Henrik, a word, please.”

Brock pointed teasingly at Henrik as the chief engineer approached Milia.

Milia said, “I know there’s no floating dance platforms and endless eye candy, and the Galaxy Battles theme might be kind of lame—”

“It’s totally lame!” Henrik said.

“—but this is a sweet deal. Have you tried any of the food? It’s delicious.”

“That’s not the problem.” Henrik’s lips squeezed together. “This is almost too good to be true. Something tells me it’s a ploy by Dash.”

Milia kept a straight face. She couldn’t tell if it was an impressive display of insightfulness or just happenstance given Henrik’s perpetual complaints about the captain. “Even if it is, who cares? Gaius’s fan club subsidized the cost. We get to reap the benefit.” She kept to herself the part about her funding the entire thing from her credit. “Things will never change if you don’t give them a chance to.”

Henrik looked at her, his eyes scanning her face for any tells. His expression loosened, and he nodded as a commotion at the back of the bus drew their attention. Brock stood above the others, two hands wrapped around the end of the bot arm. His muscled tensed in vain as he tried to overpower the arm. Gaius’s followers cheered on the wrestling show, hooting and shouting encouragement.

“For fuck’s sake,” Rosalie said, and waved at Milia and Henrik. “Come help me stop him before we get kicked off this thing!”

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