Hero (32 page)

like the Nerik. "Except Veluka can't fly," Trag said. "Wonder if they hum when they get upset."

The bird pecked at the ground and fluttered its wings. "Doesn't matter," Micayla said. Reaching into her pack, she tossed out a few sporaks which the bird promptly ate.

"It's not going to help us any to know that."

"Nothing can help you now," a voice said as two Neriks armed with pulse rifles seemed to materialize from the surrounding walls.
Chapter 23

For a long moment no one spoke. "Well, that took longer than I thought it would,"

Trag said, breaking the silence. "What kept you?"

"Very amusing," one of their captors said, but he wasn't laughing and he made a point of not lowering his weapon.

"Mind telling me how you did that?" Trag went on.

If Trag was trying to lull them into a false sense of security, or make friends with them, it wasn't working. The Nerik merely blinked at him.

"Didn't think so," said Trag.

"Would you at least tell us how you knew we were here?" Micayla asked. "We went to a lot of trouble to avoid being seen."

Ignoring this as well, the Nerik said sharply, "You spoke of Veluka. Where is he?"

"He opted not to come with us on this trip," Trag said dryly. "And I'm beginning to understand why."

Micayla studied the two Neriks. At first they appeared to be identical both to

Veluka and to each other, but as she looked more carefully, she began to discern the differences. One was taller than the other, and his shorter companion had scales and eyes of a slightly different shape--more hexagonal than oval. Another thing she noticed was that, despite the cold, neither of them wore clothing of any kind. Apparently their scales were all they needed to preserve their body warmth. Veluka must have worn his tunic simply as a courtesy to others.

"Why would you think Veluka was here?" Micayla inquired. "I mean, aside from the fact that I mentioned his name."

"We know the ship," the tall Nerik said. "We have been looking for him."

"Yes, but how did you even know to look for it?" Micayla asked. "It's been cloaked the whole time."

"It was stolen," the Nerik replied. "There is an anti-theft device embedded in it.

Not removable or alterable in any way. It sends out a constant signal which we began to receive when the ship landed."

"So only you guys can pick up on it?" Micayla persisted. "Not anyone else?"

"Only us," he replied.

"They don't know anything about it, do they, Slurlek?" the smaller Nerik said.

"Should have known Veluka couldn't have gotten a ship like that through honest means," Trag muttered. Drawing himself up to his full height--which was taller than either of the Neriks--he said firmly, "We aren't the ones who stole it. It was on loan to us from Veluka. We just needed to get to the city unseen by a certain someone."

"Still, we must impound the ship," the one called Slurlek said.

"Help yourself," Trag said with a shrug. "We don't need it anymore, but if you're looking for Veluka, he's not here."

"He could be hiding," said Slurlek's sidekick, glancing around the shed.

There was no place for anything bigger than a rabbit to hide--and the best Micayla
could tell these two had appeared out of thin air. Suddenly, the connection became clear to her. "Cloaked, you mean, don't you?" she exclaimed. "Your scales! That's why you aren't wearing clothes because we'd be able to see them! The technology in your ships is based on your own abilities."

"Clever girl," Slurlek said with a scaly smirk. "But you are not the first to realize that."

"So it's not one of those things where if I figure it out you have to kill me?"

Trag was shaking his head in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

"The Nerik ships," Micayla said excitedly. "The scales on them are what makes them capable of becoming invisible--just the way the people of Nerik can. That's why no one else has the technology." Turning back to Slurlek, she asked, "So, what do you do, put real scales on the ships?"

"Not exactly," Slurlek replied. "They wouldn't withstand the temperatures during atmospheric reentry--but that's where the idea comes from."

"So you really can disappear?" Micayla marveled. "I thought only Treslanties could do that."

"We don't advertise it," Slurlek said shortly.

While Micayla had been focusing on the ship's technology, Trag was more

concerned with its owner. "That son of a drayl knew he'd get caught if he came back here!" he grumbled. "No wonder he wanted collateral for the ship! He's probably already sold the weapons Leroy gave him and scrammed off of Darconia."

"So, he is on Darconia?" Slurlek said, showing a decided interest.

"Well, he was," Trag said. "Didn't show up to see us off either, the little scumbag.

All that crap about being afraid of Grekkor must have just been an act. He probably knew about that tracking device and decided this was a good way to unload the ship."

"Grekkor?" the smaller man echoed. "Rutger Grekkor?"

"You know who I'm talking about?" Trag asked eagerly.

"This is an enemy of Veluka's?" Slurlek inquired. "What do you know of him, Orlat?"

"You've heard of him, haven't you?" Orlat said. "The head of the Commerce Consortium in this sector? He's here on Nerik."

"Well, that answers our next question," Trag said. "Any idea where he is?"

"He is in the city for a reception," Orlat replied. "A philanthropic event of some kind. I don't remember all of the details."

Slurlek rounded on his cohort, demanding, "And just how did you know that

much?"

Orlat shrugged. "What can I say, Slur? I listen to the news. You should too. You'd understand a whole lot more about interplanetary politics if you did."

Slurlek's eyes dimmed slightly. "As if that sort of thing is important to us," he scoffed.

"Sure it is, and I know lots of other things besides that. Like these two," Orlat said, indicating Trag and Micayla. "They're Zetithians. Bet you didn't know that."

Slurlek seemed unimpressed. "So?"

"They're an endangered species," Orlat said informatively. "Which means there aren't many of them left. One of them's a famous rock star named Tycharian Vladatonsk."

"Oh, here we go again," Trag muttered.
"And this is his brother!" Micayla exclaimed, realizing that they now had a potential ally. "And I'm... his girlfriend."

"The rock star's girlfriend?" Orlat said, his scales beginning to rise with apparent delight. "Really?"

"No," Trag said, gritting his teeth. "She's my girlfriend. Ty's already got a mate."

"Sorry," Orlat said meekly. "Didn't mean to make you mad."

Micayla patted Trag on the shoulder. "He's a little touchy about having a famous brother," she explained.

"Probably gets him laid, though," Orlat said with a shrug. "Wish I was related to someone famous. I never get laid."

Trag looked like he was about to explode. "She is not my girlfriend just because of my brother!" he shouted. "I got her all on my own."

Orlat rolled his eyes. "Sure you did."

"Tell him, Mick," Trag growled.

Seeing a Nerik rolling his eyes made Micayla feel slightly dizzy again, but she

managed to form a reply. "I--I'd never even heard of Tychar until after I met Trag--well, I'd heard of him, but I'd never met him, or seen him."

Trag stiffened as he turned to peer at Micayla. He had a look in his eyes she'd

never seen before. "But you never slept with me until after you met Ty," he said accusingly. "Couldn't stand the sight of me before that. Are you sure he didn't have anything to do with it?"

Micayla stared at him open-mouthed for a moment before irritation finally took

over. "Oh, for the love of--" she said with an exasperated stomp of her foot. "Trag, will you just get over it? So what if you've got a hot rock star for a brother? Big deal!"

"Uh, I don't think she's all that impressed," said Orlat. "She might be telling the truth."

Trag tried to yank on his hair but couldn't because it was tucked into the hood of his parka. "Can we please talk about something else, like whether you guys are gonna let us go or help us out or kill us or what?"

"We're only supposed to impound the ship," said Slurlek. "You two don't fall under our jurisdiction."

"Well, thank the Great Mother for that!" Trag said. "But could you at least point us in the direction of Rechred? That's where Grekkor is, right?"

Orlat nodded. "The reception will be at the Palace Hotel. Very fancy."

"Formal wear was the one thing Jack didn't think to pack for us," Micayla snickered. "We'll be so underdressed."

"Doesn't matter," Trag said. "We'll be crashing the party anyway."

Orlat blinked and his pupils dilated with apparent interest. "I've never crashed a party before," he said. "Mind if we come along?"

"Thought you had to impound the ship," Trag said.

"We've already locked it down," Orlat said, dismissing the argument. "Party crashing sounds like fun."

Something didn't seem quite right to Micayla. In her experience, policemen didn't usually crash parties unless they were there to arrest someone. "Aren't you two lawmen?"

she asked. "I don't know how you Neriks feel about it, but on Earth, party crashing is frowned upon--maybe even illegal."
"We're private enforcers," Orlat said, puffing out his chest a trifle. "Hired by the ship's owner."

"Ah, I see," said Micayla. If they were hired thugs, it might be best to have them on their side. "I don't suppose you'd consider working for us, would you?"

"Sure, why not?" said Orlat, looking to his companion for confirmation. "You okay with that, Slur?"

Slurlek nodded at first but then eyed Trag suspiciously. "Got any credits?"

"Some," Trag admitted. "But we could pay you more when the job's done."

Slurlek hesitated for a moment. "And just what are you planning to do when you find this Grekkor?"

Micayla opened her mouth to reply, but Trag beat her to the punch. "I'd like to kill him," he said fiercely.

"That's not what we're supposed to do, Trag," Micayla chided him.

"Okay, so we just need to find him," Trag said. "Does it matter what we want him for?"

"Not really," said Slurlek. "Just checking."

Slurlek obviously didn't mind aiding and abetting a murder, but Orlat was more

cautious. "Why do you want to kill him?"

"Because he's the one responsible for destroying my planet," Trag replied. "The Nedwuts were working for him when they rammed Zetith with an asteroid and they've been hunting down the survivors ever since. I think he deserves to die, but the plan is to get him to confess and then get him locked up for the rest of his life." Trag clearly didn't think the punishment fit the crime, and the Neriks seemed to agree.

"Don't blame you for wanting him dead," said Slurlek.

"It's what I would do," Orlat said with a nod.

It hadn't taken much to win them over, but Micayla suspected that killing wasn't

something they shied away from very often. "Bloodthirsty lot, aren't you?" she observed.

"But if we don't get going, we're liable to miss the party."

"It's not until tomorrow night," said Orlat. "We've got plenty of time."

"Uh, one more question," said Trag, holding up a hand. "Speaking of time, what time is it right now?"

"Nighttime?" Orlat ventured.

"But we just got here and I'd swear it was morning!"

Orlat shook his head. "You're thinking about other planets. This one rotates the wrong way. Drives everyone who visits us nuts."

"One of the few planets in the known galaxy that does it," Slurlek said proudly.

"I guess every planet has to have some claim to fame," Trag said. "I really wish I'd read that book."

"See, I told you we should have done something besides..." Micayla broke off there, realizing it might not be a good idea to discuss such things in front of a couple of Nerik thugs. Might give them ideas.

"Besides what?" Orlat asked eagerly. "How long have you been in space?"

"Three weeks," Trag replied.

"Bet I can guess what you've been up to," Orlat teased.

"Later," Micayla said as the entire building seemed to swim before her eyes. "This whole planet makes me dizzy. Must be that backward rotation thing. Either that or I've
been in space too long."

"Or both," Trag agreed. "So what do we do now? Hole up here for the night or go on?"

"Better stay here," Slurlek advised. "We've got to report in to the ship's owner, but we could come back in the morning."

"I'm almost afraid to ask this," Trag began, "but just how long is it until morning?"

"I dunno, twelve, thirteen hours?" Slurlek replied, scratching beneath the scales on his chin. "Something like that."

"This is a damn strange planet," Trag griped. "Not sure I could go back to sleep right now. We haven't been up that long."

"Well, if you want to keep going in the snow, go right ahead," Slurlek said. "But as poorly as you tolerate cold, I wouldn't recommend it."

"What do you mean?" Trag demanded. "I thought we were doing pretty well."

"Maybe you are, but she isn't," he said, pointing at Micayla, who was shivering and having a great deal of difficulty remaining upright.

"Mick!" Trag exclaimed. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"No idea," she gasped. "Haven't felt right since we landed. It wasn't too bad while we were moving, but now--it seems to be getting worse... Maybe I'll just sit down here for a while." She staggered to the side of the building and sank down with her head between her knees. Despite the cold, she could feel beads of perspiration running down the middle of her back.

"Ever hear of this happening to anyone before?" Trag asked Slurlek.

"No, but I doubt if any Zetithians have ever visited this world," he replied.

"Doesn't seem to be bothering me any," Trag commented. "Well, you two go on.

Maybe she's just hungry or thirsty or something. We've got plenty of provisions with us.

She'll be all right."

"See you in the morning, then," Orlat said. With a swirl of snow the two Neriks pushed through another door and departed.