[05] Elite: Reclamation (23 page)

Hats … something about hats …

Salomé found herself reversed into one of the stations and then gently helped across into the couch. She settled down and felt the material around her adapt to her shape and posture. It was supremely comfortable. She stretched, adjusting her position and trying to relax.

‘Stay still,’ John said. ‘You’ll be weak for a bit, but you should be up and about in an hour at most. The re-vig will have kicked in by then. Try to get some rest. I’ll be back to give you the booster and then you can go.’

Salomé nodded. It wouldn’t be difficult to have a snooze, she felt exhausted. The Doctor left her and moved to the station next door. She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what had made her feel ill at ease. Dark haired with just a trace of grey, middle-aged, of average height and build with a slightly jowly face, he looked fairly unassuming. Nothing seemed out of place, but she couldn't shake off the odd sense that she’d seen him somewhere before.

Salomé frowned and put it down to the drugs. She turned her attention to the birds for a few moments before she became aware of voices. The Doctor seemed to having a hard time placating the patient next to her. Salomé looked across and saw an old woman pointing an unsteady finger, scolding him.

‘Don’t you be telling me what I can and can’t do,’ the old woman said. Her voice was crotchety with a slight warble, but there was no doubting the determination in her eyes.

‘You must rest, the treatment …’

‘I didn’t get to live to this age by sitting around on my backside wasting time,’ the old woman said. ‘I’ve been from one end of space to the other and I could tell you stories …’

‘I know, I know,’ the Doctor’s voice was patronising.

The old woman was infuriated. ‘I was an Elite combateer once you know. Time was when that commanded some respect …’

‘That’s lovely. Just lie back …’

‘I don’t want to lie back.’ The old woman batted him away. ‘Get on with treating some sick people and leave me be. You’re not wiping the drool from my old grey lips. I can do that myself.’

‘If you’re sure you don’t need …’

‘I can manage!’

The old woman scowled and Salomé watched as the Doctor beat a hasty retreat, clearly glad to have an excuse to leave. The old woman settled back for a moment, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh of relief. Salomé watched for a while, puzzled. The woman’s voice had an unusual twang; it certainly wasn’t Imperial like her own.

‘Useless flux-stain,’ the woman muttered.

It was impossible to tell how old she was. Her face was lined and wrinkled. Her arms were thin and delicately boned, her skin pale with only a few age spots. Her hair was straight, grey for the most part and almost transparent at the ends, but it held just a faint hint of the brown that must have been the natural colour from her youth. It was simply brushed into two neat folds on either side of her head. The skin on her cheek was stretched slightly, revealing a thin, almost invisible, scar that looked like a knife wound from long ago. Unlike most of the other patients Salomé had seen she wore no make-up, no jewellery or other adornment. She was dressed in a simple medical smock.

A frown crossed the woman’s face and she opened her eyes, looking across at Salomé, as if aware she was being scrutinised.

‘You got a problem, girl?’ The woman asked. Salomé was confronted with a pair of deep brown eyes that still sparkled with fierce intelligence. There was something else there too; the gaze was hard and almost brutal.

Salomé tried a faint a smile. ‘I’ve got a lot of problems.’

The woman cackled and her face relaxed. ‘You and me both, sister. What you in for?’

‘Immunisation.’

‘Sucks doesn’t it,’ the woman replied. ‘Really knocks the crap out of you. Better than dying out in the void though. There’s enough out there trying to kill you from outside without worrying about what might be killing you from inside.’

‘How about you?’

‘Replacing this, replacing that,’ the woman said with a grin. ‘Not sure how much of me is original anymore.’

There was a flicker of light outside the windows and a ship flashed past, too quick to make out other than a blur of duralium hull. It had been surprisingly close to the ground. A moment later a faint rumble echoed through the building. The birds scattered and disappeared from view.

‘Boy racers,’ the woman tutted. ‘I’d teach them a lesson. Flux-stains, the lot of them.’

‘You fly?’ Salomé asked.

The woman gave her disparaging look.

‘Now? Don’t make me laugh. But I did. Oh I flew all right.’ She paused for a moment as memories flooded through her mind. ‘None of this namby pampy flight-assist stuff they use now. Real flying. I was Elite you know ...’

‘I heard you say. What does that mean?’ Salomé remembered the word from the argument with the Doctor and how disparaging Hassan had been about it.

‘Deadly? Dangerous? Elite?’ The woman rolled her eyes at Salomé’s blank look. ‘You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, have you?’

Salomé shook her head.

‘Kids.’ The woman waved her hand vaguely around her. ‘They’ve mucked it up of course, fiddled with the ratings so much now that no one can figure it out. Used to be simple back in my day. You spaced a ship and you got a rating. The more you killed the more fearsome you became. Lots of folks got to be dangerous; you didn’t last long if you weren’t dangerous you know.’

The woman paused for a moment chuckling to herself.

‘A few got to be deadly, but Elite … well, we were special. People respected us. Being Elite meant something out on the Frontier …’

‘You’ve been to the Frontier?’

‘To it, through it, past it,’ the woman smiled. ‘Don’t tell no one, but I got as far as the Formidine Rift, not many folks can say that! No one has gone past it and lived to tell the tale.’

‘The Formid …?’

‘Edge of the galactic arm. Take a line from Reorte to Riedquat to the edge of the arm and … keep going.’ The woman grimaced. ‘Stars thin out, you can see the whole galaxy just hanging there. I took a fancy to going exploring after I lost …’ she paused, a sadness creeping across her face, ‘… had some time to spare. Quiet for the most part, until …’

‘Until what?’

‘Let’s just say there was some serious shit out there, stuff you wouldn’t believe. No really – no one believed me, said it was all a fabrication. I had no proof you see and they edited my memory afterwards. Ah, it’ll all come back to bite them one day, it’s all there in the Imperial databanks somewhere - and they thought the Thargoids were trouble …’

The woman pointed a wavering finger at Salomé.

‘Going out to the Frontier isn’t for the faint hearted you know. You have to fight for it. I almost never made it back. You need a tough ship and more than enough talent behind the guns.’

‘You flew a ship in combat too?’ Salomé asked, in surprise.

The woman snorted. ‘Girl, I took out an iron-assed Python on my twentieth birthday using nothing but a Sidewinder and pulse laser. I was born in space, a trading family for three generations. I was so hot I could shoot missiles down by hand – I had to, couldn’t afford an ECM early on; bet you don’t see that sort of flying nowadays.’ The woman looked across with a flicker of excitement in her eyes. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Tionisla system?’

Salomé shook her head as the woman continued reminiscing.

‘Pity. It’s a long way from here. Commissioner Hughes gave me the Crossed Dagger you know, damn stupid ceremony that was. I shot down gangs of pirates, escaped bounty hunters. Even took on a Thargoid mothership once and I won ...’

She looked away, a sadness creeping into her voice.

‘All ancient history now I guess. I had a rep in the old worlds see. My ship was a real beauty. Damn, I miss that ship.’

The woman coughed briefly.

‘What ship was it?’ Salomé asked the obvious question.

‘Cobra you know, Mark 3 …’ Salomé didn’t understand much of what the woman was talking about. ‘… with the outrigger thrusters? It was an Apocalypse engineering special. Hardly see them now … proper old school ship … wouldn’t have slipped the bounty hunters without it … not like these modern designs.’

Bounty hunters? Hassan said something about …

‘You escaped bounty hunters?’ Salomé asked. ‘How?’

The woman looked up with a mischievous grin. ‘That was one of my better tricks you know. He had a better ship, tougher even than mine. Couldn’t outfight him, had to run. Shields were gone, laser overheated and the missile launchers had jammed. Hull was leaking plasma. It was a last resort, oh yes. Don’t you be trying it. Not safe, not safe at all.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Mis-jumped!’ the old woman cackled. ‘Jammed a spoke in the drive and clear disappeared into witchspace. Bounty hunters track your hyperspace cloud see? Figure out where you’re going. But if you mis-jump they see you go one way, but you end up … somewhere else. Got away scot-free. Saved my life that day it did.’

‘Mis-jumped,’ Salomé said, thoughtfully. Hassan had said something about mis-jumps. ‘But isn’t that …’

‘Dangerous? Sure as ships is ships kid. Last resort of the desperate.’

The woman settled back in her bed, her eyes drooping wearily.

‘Those were the days,’ she said, as if to herself, her voice softening.

‘Sounds like it was fun,’ Salomé said, with a faint smile.

‘Right on,’ the woman whispered, her eyes closing. ‘Quite a saga it was. Life on the Frontier; not easy, but one hell of a ride. Elite combateers, we always … always made a difference …’

She was asleep, her frail body sinking back into the comfortable grasp of the medical couch.

The Frontier, everyone talks of the Frontier.

‘Hey!’ A fierce whisper came from the opposite direction.

Salomé turned to look and saw Hassan peering around the edge of the ward. On catching her attention he walked in.

‘You ok?’

‘I am now,’ Salomé replied. ‘It hurt like hell though. Did you get my ID?’

‘It’s arranged, but you need to come with me to get it set up. Let’s get you out of here.’

He pressed some controls on the cubicle. The bed rose up, levering Salomé into a standing position.

‘Wait,’ Salomé whispered urgently. ‘The Doctor said I needed a booster …’

‘Only so they can charge more credits,’ Hassan replied. ‘You don’t need it. Come on.’

He pulled her up and dragged her along behind him. She still felt a little stiff, but the pain had gone.

***

Dalk walked through the series of terminal buildings until he was standing adjacent to the Eagle. A brief inspection confirmed it was the right ship, and a few discrete checks showed it was currently unoccupied.

The Eagle was being loaded by automechs. A series of canisters were being crated aboard. It looked like the ship would soon be ready to depart.

The pilot would be somewhere nearby. All Dalk had to do was wait.

***

‘He’s back boss.’ One of Canos’ bouncers leant into the room that served as the HQ for Canos’ operation. It was a simple affair, a series of prefab constructions on the edge of the space-port. There was storage for a dozen ships, some ready to go, some under repair. Basic medical facilities and cargo storage pens accounted for the rest of it. The centre of the complex was reserved for accommodation, which featured a brothel and an unlicensed ‘recreational’ area. Both were well attended by the local clientele.

Canos looked up, holding up a hand for silence. He turned his attention back to the holofac transmission still playing in the air above his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him as he reclined in his chair.

‘He’s here.’

‘Is he alone?’ a voice crackled back. It was clipped and transposed, classic hallmarks of a voice obfuscator.

‘Nah. The girl is with him.’

‘You understand about the girl? Good. Detain them both until I arrive. I’ll be with you in an hour.’

‘I’ll want paying.’

‘Hand the girl to me safe and sound and you’ll be able to retire. Safe, sound and … unspoilt. Are we clear?’

‘I get it.’

The holofac transmission flickered and shut itself down. Canos poured himself a tumbler of Anlian gin from an ornate glass carafe, taking a sip before beckoning to the bouncer.

‘Danz, send ‘em in.’

***

Hassan led Salomé through Canos’ complex. It was dark inside, lit by strobing pulses of light and obscured by plumes of sweet-smelling intoxicating smoke. Loud and rhythmic music assaulted her ears. She watched, in surprise, the antics of scantily clad women and men performing strange feats of acrobatic prowess on small raised platforms for the delight of a noisily jeering crowd. Drinks, drugs and stims were being consumed with abandon all around her. As she watched, one large individual collapsed to the floor. His companions laughed uproariously.

‘This way,’ Hassan yelled at her, giving her arm a yank.

Salomé could see a large man waiting beside an unobtrusive doorway. He was huge, muscled and looking in their direction. As he caught sight of them he gestured briefly for them to follow him.

‘Who’s that?’

‘His name’s Danz.’

‘And what does he do?

‘He … keeps an eye on things. Remember, let me do the talking …’

Salomé looked up at the man as they came close. He was a good half metre taller than her. He wore only a pair of loose fitting trousers and a T-shirt. A gun was strapped conspicuously by his side. He spared her a brief glance and then gestured for them to go through the door way. The door slid back and they moved inside. Salomé heard him step in behind them.

Hassan led her inside. A short corridor led to a bare and simple room containing a few unhealthy looking plants and a tired desk. Behind the desk a man sat, hands steepled in front of him, watching them as they entered. He wasn’t as big as Danz, but he was bigger than Hassan. Thin greasy hair sat on a pale unhealthy looking pockmarked face that smiled a lot, but not often for the right reasons. Salomé was immediately on her guard.

She looked across at Hassan. He looked nervous. The man behind the desk saw it too and Salomé saw the brief impression of a smirk form on his features. She wondered if Hassan really knew what he was doing. If these men caused trouble there was no way he was going to be able to protect her. She saw him look briefly around, his gaze lingering on the holster at Danz’s side. She saw Danz look back, stretching to his full height. Hassan swallowed, nervously eyeing the bigger man’s muscular arms and torso.