Sons of Abraham: Terminate (11 page)

              A thought crossed his mind.  Divinity was everywhere.  As soon as he flashed his pad and transferred some credits, they’d nail their location.  He damned himself for not thinking that part through.

              “You got any ideas for creds?  We can’t use our pads anymore.”

              “Yeah, I guess I can cover ya, sweetie.”

              Bearden twirled around, just as Janys was zipping her pants.  A bewildered look formed on his face, obvious to his companion.

              “I assume we need a cover story.  So you better practice falling in love with me.  We ARE on our honeymoon, DEAR.”

              “Ugh, do we have to be one of those couples?  We both have red hair, maybe they’ll think you’re my daughter.”

              “Your daughter?  Really?  I’m only ten years younger than you.”

              “Just ten years?  I thought I was closer to twice your age than that.”

              Janys blushed as she walked up to the Sargent, noting the dumbfounded look upon the large man’s face.  She gave him a quick peck on his cheek, then wiped it away with her finger.

              “See, you can be sweet when you want to.  Now let’s go clothes shopping.”

              Bearden dropped his jaw to refute her statement, but she was already pushing through the canvas door to the back exit.  He followed behind, catching up to her as she rounded the corner. 

              The street was alive.  People in various levels of attire filled the streets, pushing past one another in groups.  Men in white shirts, far too big for their torsos, and black pants with no shoes tried to offer handbags to the finely dressed women that passed.  Women in tight dresses and far too much makeup tried to flatter to men who lacked female companions.  Bearden locked eyes with one as they passed, which he was awarded an elbow into his ribs.

              “Geez, we’ve been married for five minutes and you’re already looking to cheat on me,” she informed him.  “You’re lucky I don’t know any decent lawyers.”

              Bearden laughed as he felt the Corporal’s arm slide under his.  He arched his shoulder, allowing her to wrap her arm around his as they walked.  The air was filled with various scents.  Some were lavish perfumes that tiny, elderly ladies tried to spray on people as they passed.  Others came from the buildings, the open doors to the restaurants taunting their empty stomachs.  They passed a dark alley between two rows of buildings when something caught the Sargent’s attention.

              “Wait,” he muttered.

              He pulled her arm, dragging her along to a group of men huddled around the side entrance to one of the stores.  He judged their appearance, hoping that his estimation was correct.  The men were all young, barely adults in his eyes.  All six of them were slender, with dark hair that pressed against their foreheads.  Three wore black tank tops, displaying the artistic tattoos on their shoulders and arms.  The others wore similar baggy white shirts as the street peddlers, all looking at a man kneeling on the ground, showing them something in a black case.

              “You want something?” one of the sleeveless men asked as he noted the couple’s approach.  “The store’s entrance is to the front if you’re lost.”

              Bearden caught a glimpse of the black case before the kneeling man could close it.  He smiled, thankful that he had guessed correctly.

              “We need some quick bars,” he stated, remembering that Parasus often used sticks of metal as currency instead of digital credits.  He lifted his shirt, showing the two pistols he’d stashed into his belt.  “Think you can help us out.”

              “You a fool?” one of the men asked.  “You look like a cop.  We don’t deal with you.”

              Bearden laughed. 

              “Do you really think I’m a cop?  Yeah, ex-marine and I keep it tight, but definitely not a cop.  We just need to lose our hardware.  So make me an offer.”

              “How many?”

              “Three and a few extra clips.”

              “Let’s see one.”

              Bearden pulled one out of his belt, ejected the clip, unleashed the shell in the chamber, caught it in mid-air, and handed it to the man he assumed to be in charge. 

              The tanned man looked the gun over, letting it rise and fall in his hand, inspecting the weight.  He pulled the top, looking for powder burns.

              “You used it recently.  You two on the run?”

              “Not your problem,” Bearden replied.  “Just need a fair price.”

              “They’re heavy, some good hardware ya got here.  I say ten bars each, five per clip.”

              Bearden snatched the gun from his hand before the young man could finish the sentence.  He stuffed it back in his belt and shook his head.

              “No deal.  You’ll sell it for two hundred each, so don’t fill me with crap.  Fifty each and I throw in the clips for free.”

              “Deal,” the man with the case interrupted.

              “The hell?” the man in front asked.  “He wasn’t talking to you.”

              “No, but my money speaks to him,” he said, pulling a small pile of metal sticks from his left hip pocket.  “Maybe I sell them to you for a fair price.  Say one-fifty each.  You could still sell for two hundred as big red said.”

              The couple unloaded their weapons and ammo, taking the handful of bars, and returning to the busy streets.  They could still hear the men arguing amongst themselves briefly before the noise and commotion of the street filled their ears. 

              “This one,” Janys informed him, pulling him into a narrow building. 

              He followed, uncertain if he cared for the clothing displayed on the racks.  He tried to protest, but the thin lady was dragging him with unseen strength between mounds of clothes.  A few tables were sprinkled amongst the racks, piles of clothes of all styles laying haphazardly everywhere. 

              “You won’t find anything for you up front,” a man informed him from the corner of the room.  “Big guy like yourself needs to go to the back.  It looks like a mess, but my wife keeps the women’s clothes in the front, men’s in the back.  Small sizes first, bigger sizes towards the back.”

              “Thanks,” Janys offered cheerfully.

              It took twenty minutes, but the couple managed to find similar attire to the people that littered the streets outside.  Bearden tried to protest, but she had a white, short sleeve, button-up short on him in no time flat.  She handed him a gray, silk shirt, and a pair of black shorts and pushed him to the changing room.  He returned, feeling foolish as she made him turn around and pose.  She gave him a wide, beige straw hat with a blue band to finish the ensemble.  She disappeared into another booth, returning in a dress that wrapped her body.  It was blue, with white flowers, stopping just above her knees.  The tiny white sandals finished off the outfit as she flopped a blue hat onto her head.

              “You’ll need these,” the man started, placing two pieces of luggage on the counter. 

              “Eh, how much for all this?” Bearden asked, looking at the pile of clothes. 

              The man smiled and opened the luggage cases.  There were a few tiny bags inside, as well as a few personal grooming devices. 

              “People lose their luggage all the time,” the man started.  “If you’re buying all those clothes, I throw in these bags and everything they came with.  Say, fifty bars for the whole thing.”

              Bearden saw something on the tiny shelf behind the man, something no vacationer should ever be without.  He motioned with his hand and nodded.  The man saw what he wanted, looked to the couple, and chose a pair of sunglasses for each of them. 

              “Now we’re at fifty,” Bearden replied, handing over the bars. 

              “Thank you, please come again.”

              They loaded the cases, which Bearden decided to carry himself.  They returned to the street, making for the docks.  Janys bought kabobs, which they ate as they walked.  They stopped for a pint of foul tasting beer, but the alcohol aided in loosening their exhausted muscles.  By the time they reached the port, they started to feel like a tourist.  They looked and felt exhausted, their faces were a mess, and they had the happy, yet I’m dying to get out of here look as everyone around them. 

              “We’re nearing the ring,” the pilot informed the crew. 

              The crew of the military transport harrier leaned to the windows, gazing upon the vast object as they approached.  It was difficult to appreciate how large forty-seven miles long and five miles in diameter truly were until one sees it for themselves.  The outer shell of the Gabriel Ring was black, reflecting the lights of the stars.  Rings of windows wrapped around one end, indicating where the workers were stationed.  The center of the ring was nothing more than empty space though all knew the green and blue hues that would line the edges when it prepared to launch a vessel to the next system.  The docked on the outer edge, much the way a flea jumps onto a dog.

              The harrier closed in, the wall of black engulfing their view of the solar system.  At the moment, Neptune had been the only planet visible, with Pluto far off in its orbit.  The Gabriel Ring made its own orbit, ensuring that it remained aligned with the Earth at all times.  As they neared the docking ring, a long tube reached out to them, gently locking onto the seal around the exterior hatch and pulling the ship to the locking clamps.

              Several minutes passed before the pressure was filled into the docking station, allowing for Sanchez to open the exterior hatch.  The military escorts went first, followed by the scientist, Jones, and the two pilots.  Unlike their time at the Cyber lab, the pilots did not feel like remaining in the ship, clinging onto the Gabriel Ring when there were more interesting activities inside.

              The door to the ring slid open with a loud hiss, a series of air portals blowing each person as they passed through the doorway.  Vanessa seemed upset as her hair was blown out of style, forcing her to pull a mirror from her bag and work it back into shape.  Jones felt the door slide shut in a swoop of wind, the tail of his jacket flapping against his backside. 

              “So there you are,” a short man in a gray uniform muttered.  “Welcome to the Gabriel Ring, blah blah, try not to break anything.”

              “Well, glad to see manners exist in space,” Keenan replied, heaving his bag to his other hand.

              The short man’s features scrunched on his face as he leaned into the heavy-set historian.  The man’s brows were thick, adding more emphasis to his distaste.

              “Now look, just because you got some document from the Vice President that says I have to help you, doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.  As far as I’m concerned, you’re all just a pain in my ass that I have to keep scratching til it goes away.  So can the theatrics and realize that you’re on a military station.  You got it, baldie?”

              Jones tried not to laugh as the short man’s hair was terribly thin.  A few more years of regression would leave him looking the same as Keenan though far less fat.  Keenan stepped back, straightening out his spine to appear taller, managing to gain enough leverage to look down upon the man.

              “We are here on a scientific expedition,” Keenan replied.  “The likes of which are highly confidential.  And, since we DO have a pretty document from the Vice President, you will do whatever we ask you to, do YOU understand?”

              “Oh, I understand,” the man laughed.  “So let’s start over.  My name is Major Isaac.  I am the Commander of this Gabriel Ring for another month another officer fills my rotation.  I have no intention of being the first Commander to allow chaos to run amok since the rings were first built.  So, you will do exactly what I say, go where you are told to go, and stay out of places we tell you are not safe.  If you are not able to comply, I’ll have you thrown through the airlock.  I may not even care if it’s the one to your ship.”

              Major Isaac performed an about-face, his boots snapping on the metal floor of the docking station.  The military escorts laughed as they followed the Major through the hallway, which only led to another hallway.  The scientist tried to keep track of all the turns, though they quickly gave up after the sixth right turn, having already lost count of how many lefts. 

              The group was led to a series of personnel quarters, appointing each person to their own room.  The Marines dove into theirs though the two scientists seemed off-put at the small size of the quarters.  Jones ignored their complaints as he circled past the Major and claimed his own room. 

              Jones threw his bag on the thin bed and started to unpack.  He pulled out a stack of dark brown shirts, a stack of slightly less dark pants, and enough socks and underwear to last a week.  The remainder of his belongs remained in their cases as he tucked the bag under the bed. 

              Sanchez and his men stayed behind as the experts were led to the maintenance room.  The Major was all too pleased to leave them in the hands of one Lieutenant Anderson, a wide man with permanently black stained hands from years of working on the machinery of the ring.  His eyes were close to his short nose, with a tiny gray mustache hanging over thin lips.  He had a dark gray jumpsuit over his uniform though the buttons were undone halfway down, exposing the stained white shirt beneath.