Anstractor (The New Phase Book 1) (14 page)

Laughing out loud, Corren shook off the question and without breaking a sweat, started talking to Rafian. “Hey, you have training; you’ve told me yourself. Do you want to use some of that military know-how to help me rob these trade union folks? If we score, you could be on a ship off of this moon in less than a month, bro.”

Taking a sip of his vodka and thinking a bit, Rafian became annoyed as Riyah plopped down next to him. Numbing the urge to shoo her away, he looked into Corren’s blue eyes and answered, “I’ll need a piece, buddy. I have no weapons here, and you know how hard it is to get a gun through the Felitian’s watchdogs.”

As if to answer, Corren slid a pistol across the table.

Rafian picked it up, measuring the heft and studying it. “Corren, good friend, this seems to be the beginning of a beautiful partnership!”

“Cheers!”

After a time of some drinking, laughing, and discussion, Riyah went off to bed, and the real business was discussed. The plan was to rob one of Corren’s contacts on his route the next day. Rafian was to start the transportation, and Corren would hold him up and rob him before shooting him and dumping his body in the wilderness between Dearin and Corpys. The plans were laid out over three hours, and Corren took off into the night while Rafian headed into the room to join Riyah. She was waiting in bed, lying on her side feigning sleep. When Rafian lay beside her, she sat up and powered on the lamp sitting on the bedside table next to her.

“What the hell was that?”

Rafian turned to face her as the surprise reflected across his face and the light forced him to shield his eyes.

“What are you talking about, Riyah? Are you upset with me about something?”

She began to curse at him in a language he was unfamiliar with, and when she realized that he did not understand, she switched back to the common tongue. She let him know that she was hurt at his attempt to play pimp when he first introduced Corren to her.

“Are you not a prostitute?” Rafian asked with a smile on his face. “I was just trying to help you score another customer so that you can help out a bit around here.”

When the words fell out of his mouth, he instantly regretted them as he watched Riyah turn away from him to turn off the lamp, with tears falling from her eyes.

“Oh,” she said silently as she wiped her face and took a trembling deep breath. “I guess I misunderstood you and what this is.”

With blood running down his arm, Rafian VCA ducked behind the mining facility in hopes of seeing his friend Corren emerge. His brain was throbbing as the blood steadily rushed through his veins from the excitement of the previous hour. The heist had gone down flawlessly, but the two men had not accounted for their victim’s history. When the trap was sprung, they realized all too late that he was a high-ranking Felitian official. Not only was the man an official, but he was also a martyr. He had tripped a homing signal as he fell to his death, which sent the authorities in the direction of Corren and Rafian’s location for prompt retribution. When the troopers came in firing, Rafian hit the fields and escaped into the wilderness. Corren was a second too late and was gunned down by more than twenty troopers.

Rafian was getting impatient. His friend should have emerged by now.
Corren would have been smart enough to wear armor, right?
He thought about it and then realized the answer. To sneak into the mining facility, his friend had to make it through the detection fields and would have avoided wearing armor in order to remain invisible to the scanners. Rafian felt lonely and stupid. What was he thinking?

With much effort, he tried to recall his past, but again he was met with darkness. Being a wanted man in this galaxy was not a life he wanted. Soon there would be vids displaying info about him. Every starport would bear his likeness on their screens, and then the bounty hunters would come. His mind turned to Riyah as he ran towards a spent reactor bin outside the saloon, and by coincidence, he spotted her walking up to begin her night’s work.

“
Psst
! Riyah! Over here!”

Rafian motioned to the beauty, and a grin crossed her face as she ran to him. “Hey, baby, why are you out here tonight?”

Quickly Rafian grabbed her and muffled her mouth with his palm to silence her.

“We have to get out of here tonight, Riyah. Corren bit it, and I am two turns away from being shot like a dog in the streets. We crossed the Fels, and, well, your lover here is public enemy number one on some trooper’s piss list. We need to book, and I mean book fast!”

Riyah suddenly looked lost and confused. Her eyes glazed over as she slumped down by the alley wall as if depressed.

“No one makes it out of here if they’re wanted, Rafian. Maybe we can lie low for a while—you know, till they assume you’re dead or just forgotten. I can make us enough money to live on, and I can get everything you need, take care of you, and—”

Her words made Rafian even angrier. “Are you out of your damn mind? Lie low? No, no, no! We are getting out of here right now!”

Retiring to a camp outside of Dearin for the night, the two discussed their escape plans. The security on the starport was just too tight, but they both knew that renowned criminals flew in and out of there all the time. Finally they came to the conclusion that they would have to buy a small noncommercial ship from Gorda the Gangster. Gorda was the head underground official for the moon of Talula and a Hithian legend. But Rafian was wanted by the Gangster for a double cross on one of his associates, so it would take Riyah’s “persuasion” to, hopefully, garner a flight for them out of there. She seemed elated to help and spent the entire night gabbing about Yunen ruins, riverside cottages, and all of the rumors that surrounded her home planet of Tyhera—their destination.

Rafian sat back as Riyah happily told tale after tale about Veece, Apun, on Tyhera, and its beauty. It bothered him that he had no Memory of his own planet, and it bothered him that he felt guilty for Corren’s death and everything that he had done. With a mental effort, he decided to forget it, saying that today is what’s important, and he would surge forward. Having nothing to show for a forgotten past, what was the point of even remembering it? For a minute he wished he were dead, but after a while, Riyah’s sweet voice had melted into a song. She said it was a song of her homeland, and after a time, it lulled him to sleep.

When Rafian awoke, he was alone. The camp was neatly arranged, and a small note was tacked to his chest. Ripping it off, he read it to find that Riyah had set out to talk to Gorda. The sun was bright overhead, and he lay back to enjoy it for some time, staring up at Tyhera and wondering if he would ever touch its beautiful surface.

“Well, may the Maker bless me. If it isn’t the off-worlder!”

Rafian’s eyes lit up with shock at the sound of the voices. Feigning sleep as the footsteps approached, he recognized the clothing and boots of the four figures and knew them to be Mehlba gang members. From some run-ins and shootouts a few months back, Rafian had earned a deadly reputation among the local gangs. The chance to not only kill him but to also collect the bounty on his head was one that any Mehlba lackey would sell his own mother for.

As soon as the first Mehlba got close enough, Rafian swung his leg around, sweeping him off of his feet while launching himself into the second. Within moments, it turned into a frenzy of knives, punches, and kicks as Rafian spun and flipped through their attacks, landing blow after blow of assaults. Grabbing the wrist of an attacking Ranalos, Rafian spun behind him and stomped down on his calf to force him into a kneeling position. In one swift motion, he snapped the Ranalos’s neck and ended the spin into a tornado kick to the side of a Daltak’s neck. The two other human Mehlbas were already suffering on the ground, one from an eye stabbing and the other from an apparently broken leg. When he had all of them on the ground, Rafian reached down to retrieve a fallen pistol and shot each in the head, making sure that they were dead.

With Rafian now wanted, the situation was proving to be as annoying as he suspected.
Why did I survive, and why am I able to fight like this?
He silently pondered this thought over and over again. He would always lie to people when they asked about his past. He would tell them that he was once a Soltek agent. It was the only answer that would stick, but in truth, he didn’t know. At times it felt as if the world moved in slow motion and in perfect harmony when he fought, flying through the air, moving like wind, parrying attacks, and returning them.

“At least I have some talent,” he muttered to himself as he kicked a large tumble brush that had managed to get too close. “I have talent, and I have Riyah!” The last thought made him smile, but it was gone when he realized that he had sent her into the arms of a beast.

* * *

Riyah felt like a walking dessert, being ogled from head to toe by the criminals who inhabited Gorda’s building. It was customary to set up meetings before seeing the Gangster, but she hoped that waltzing in unannounced would show more of her urgency to leave Talula. Never before in her life had she felt as frightened as she did now, but she thought of getting one of Rafian’s rare smiles if she could succeed, and it was enough to keep her going.

“I seek audience with the honorable Gorda,” she announced to the dirty android at the entrance to Gorda’s main room.

“I am sorry, but you do not meet the description of my lord’s twelve o’clock appointment,” the android replied.

Smiling, Riyah went on. “I know, but your lord will not mind my relaying a quick message about his appointment prior to.”

The android seemed to ponder and then asked, “And what is this in reference to?”

Riyah feigned a look of horror and replied, “Your lord really needs to hear this from me; it is worth a lot of money!”

Gorda the Gangster had sliced out a nice bit of living on Talula, staying relatively hidden from the Felitian authorities. He controlled the underground with an iron fist, and his affairs were always quiet, so only criminals knew his name. His only concern in life was money and acquiring as much of it as he could swim in before he “decided” to die. Gorda was a Hithian, and like many who occupied that water planet, he appeared very much like a fish out of water. Hithians were mermen, having gills on the sides of their faces, large mouths, and orb-like eyes that blinked constantly to filter out the dry dust that occupied the atmosphere. As a Hithian he hated humans, perceiving them to be lower than his own people, both in looks and ambition.

Rafian had killed Gorda’s large pimp, who managed a few girls in the local saloons. It was good money for the Gangster, so when the pimp died, the girls’ money halted and Rafian became a marked man. All of the women who were under the pimp disappeared as well, and Gorda promptly put a mark on their heads, including Riyah’s. Luckily for her, Gorda had no idea who she was.

Three women were assisting the Gangster with his afternoon meal—if one would consider what they were doing to be assisting—when his android butler entered the chamber with a pretty, blue-haired woman in tow.

“Your honor,” Riyah uttered, bowing deeply to him. “I have a favor to ask you, which I am willing to pay heavily for.”

At the mention of money, the Gangster’s attention was given over to Riyah, and with a gesture he shooed the women away to their respective corners.

“Who is it you want killed?” he asked, his booming voice sounding as if he gargled water as he spoke.

“No one, your greatness. I need swift transportation to the planet Tyhera for myself and my husband. You see, he has quit the service of the Felitian Nation, and they want to question him about it. You know as well as I do what that means, Your Honor.”

The Gangster chuckled. “What’s his name, and which division was this husband of yours in?” he asked as he swallowed two small, unfortunate potatoes.

“His name is Oda Mancozulu, Lord. He has always kept his affairs private, so I cannot reveal more. We offer fifty thousand credits.”

The Gangster rubbed his fat, scaly chin then spewed back his offer: “Sixty-five thousand. No less!”

Riyah looked as if she was about to cry. “Please be reasonable, great one!”

Looking her up and down, the Gangster seems to soften. “Fifty thousand credits, then, but no less! You are quite fetching and are lucky to find me in a good mood today.”

Riyah sighed with relief. It was all the money they had, but it meant freedom and a chance to start over. The Gangster gave her a location and password to use that night to get off of Talula. It seemed like an eternity before she could leave his disgusting presence, but she was so excited to return to the camp to tell Rafian the good news that she forgot everything it had taken to get there.

That night, Rafian and Riyah boarded a run-down Tyheran supply ship under the guise of Mr. and Mrs. Mancozulu. They exchanged formalities with its pilot and settled in among some smelly boxes in the back. Trying to make the best of the situation, Riyah smiled at Rafian and took his hand, but he had the same distant look in his eyes that he always did.

“Where are you, Rafian? You aren’t here with me.”

Finally, his eyes focused on her, and he returned the smile. “I was in my mind’s eye, Ri. I was repenting my sins. It all came back to you, though. Only you can release me. So what’s it gonna be? Do you forgive me of my sins?”

Lifting his palms to kiss them, Riyah let a tear fall on them and looked up at him for a long time before speaking.

“You have it all wrong, Raf. You were forgiven from the day you killed my slaver.”

It shocked him to realize that she had known all along that he killed her pimp on the day they met in the saloon on the moon of Talula, so long ago. Over time, he had learned to stop underestimating Riyah, but he had no idea that all along she knew he had killed the brute. He wondered what else she might know.

“You have never asked about my past, Raf, nor I yours. We were just living day to day in our respective roles. I can’t begrudge you that. We have a long trip ahead, so I think it would be a good time for us to actually talk.”

Rafian agreed as he stared back at her. “Slaver? Riyah Mist, all this time I thought you were a willing partner to the scheme at the bar.”

Smiling, she assured him that she knew. For hours they talked and learned more about each other. It was the best of all ends to that beautiful moon of such ugly inhabitants. Throughout the night, he held her close as he mentally drifted back to his place of repentance. He felt he owed the world penance for his many crimes on Talula, and he made an oath to become a good person within his new life and new planet.

“Good-bye, beautiful Talula.”

He muttered this out loud, and the smile that Riyah displayed as the ship broke Tyhera’s atmosphere was bright enough to light the entire planet of Valuneer. Like two pups in a store’s front window, the couple watched as the lush planet came ever closer with the ship’s descent. It was very blue, a pretty azure field with clouds that masked beautiful green landscapes and occasional brown swampland. They were so enthralled; they did not notice the three vessels tailing them. Suddenly, a loud voice came over the speakers.

“This is the Felitian Air Patrol. Slow your descent to a halt and prepare to be boarded!”

Nervously, Riyah looked at Rafian. Their trip to paradise had hit a brick wall.

In response, he smiled and squeezed her hand. “Positive thoughts, pet,” he said.

“Hold on back there!”

It was the pilot’s voice now on the announcer, and before Rafian and Riyah could react, they were slammed into the rear wall as the ship bolted away from the pursuers. Shot after shot rained on them as the pilot did his best maneuvers to outrun the authorities. But there was only so much maneuvering one could do with a freight vessel. The ship was being torn apart, and it was not going very well.