“Was that supposed to be dramatic?” I called back to him.
“Prepare to die and draw your weapon!”
Odd way of phrasing it.
Let’s see, he was about a hundred yards off. I looked at my assortment of guns. I hadn’t used this bolt action in a while. I wasn’t very good with it though. I had cut off the rear of the stock to make it smaller.
I couldn’t remember if it was cocked and loaded. Come to think of it, that was a pretty bad thing to not know, being Supreme Kommilaire and all.
I took the rifle off its hook, held the foregrip with my left hand and I tried to pull back the bolt with my right and I not only ripped it from the rifle, but I bent the chamber and split the stock. It basically fell apart in my hands. I looked down at it.
At least it hadn’t been loaded. So I didn’t feel so bad about that.
Whatshisface-from-wherever took that opportunity to set his weapon, got down on one knee to brace himself, and fired.
I got hit in the chest with a missile!
“Dammit!” I yelled.
I’m not sure what kind of missile it was that hit me, but it wasn’t an anti-Hank missile. It hadn’t even budged me. Compared to a heart attack it was like a fly landing on my ear. My hangover was worse, however.
When the smoke cleared I saw all the guns on my chest were destroyed. That had been like a decade’s worth of top-quality firearms! I had some pistols that escaped destruction, and I reached for one of those. I needed to get closer, though, so I began walking forward.
“We need to help him,” I heard Valia say from the sidelines.
“Just relax, new guy,” MTB replied.
My would-be assassin fiddled with his missile launcher as I delicately cocked my pistol, trying to avoid breaking it.
A second missile hit me in the chest.
When I could see clearly, my pistol was gone. Missiled away I guess.
“Dammit,” I repeated.
I knew I was now too close for him to use his weapon. Missiles have to travel a certain distance before they arm themselves, otherwise the user could get killed if it accidentally hits something on the way, like a branch or pane of glass or wire.
He threw down the missile launcher and pulled out a revolver and began shooting me. As if seeing two Navy missiles fail to slow me it stood to reason that some really tiny unexploding missiles would do the trick.
When that didn’t work, and I was getting closer, he thought it prudent to return to his many-hyphened homeworld.
But the crowd surged back in and cut off his escape.
I reached him and grabbed hold of his neck. The protestors pressed in once he was in my grasp, standing on tiptoes to watch.
“I sentence you to—”
I looked around at the crowd, whose eyes were all agog in anticipation. All they wanted was entertainment and a gallon of blood.
Which I gave them.
A gasp collectively went up as I dropped the remains of the criminal on the ground.
Valia and MTB approached.
MTB looked at the deceased attacker with unconcealed enthusiasm.
Valia had her mouth open, staring at me.
Out of nowhere, I saw an adjudicator running up, waving his arms.
“Shut up,” I said to him, before he could speak.
CHAPTER 9
“Do you still want to be a Stair Boy?” I asked Valia, at the entrance to her apartment, wondering if yesterday’s events had dampened her enthusiasm for the job.
“Come in,” she said.
I did, as she returned to buckling her boots.
“I understand why you killed that guy,” she answered simply. “You had to break up the crowd somehow. Almost everyone went home right afterwards. It’s like they came specifically to watch you fight. And he did attack you.”
“I notice you haven’t asked for a gun yet.”
She pulled out a pistol from her coat.
“Where’d you get that?” I said, annoyed. “If you bought it on the black market, that’s supporting the exact stuff we’re trying to end.”
“Be cool, I brought it with me to the station. Your scanners are terrible. That’s probably why guys can walk around with D78 rocket launchers and shoot at you.”
“Thanks for volunteering,” I said after she was done dressing.
“What did I volunteer for, by the way?”
“We’re going on a special assignment today,” I said.
“Just us two?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
MTB was a good Stair Boy, but he thought all that was required was a firm fist. As Supreme Kommilaire I had to do more than just beat up people. Yesterday I asked for volunteers and was pleased to see nearly all my men trusted me enough to go on a special assignment with no questions asked.
“Is that what you came over to tell me? Or did you have other reasons?”
Valia undid her coat in a blink and stood before me with her eyes narrowed and a devious grin. She had a much better body than I guessed. Her clothes must be so constrictive I’m surprised she didn’t have blood spurting from her ears.
She was almost completely naked straight to her knee boots, waiting for my response, not the least bit shy.
I stood there for ages. This woman was probably two hundred years younger than me, about the size of my arm, and about the weight of my pinky. She was attractive enough that she could have nearly any man on Belvaille.
“Are you making fun of me?” I asked her.
“Wha—no,” she said, surprised, her eyes blinking.
“We’re going to visit Hobardi,” I continued. Valia quickly buttoned her coat as I spoke. “He is a religious leader on Belvaille. The Sublime Order of Transcendence. I’d guess about a fifth of the station are members—including a number of the Stair Boys. This is a problem. You understand?”
Valia was fixing her hair hurriedly and straightening her outfit.
“Hobardi, yeah.”
“Let’s go,” I said.
Hank Block had moved numerous times. Wherever I lived was basically renamed Hank Block. Its current location came about because I wanted to have the closest access to the largest number of functioning trains. It was north central in terms of the city.
Belvaille used to have trains everywhere. You almost never had to walk very far. But the equipment to run and repair them had been cannibalized for other purposes. Delovoa could fix the trains, I’m sure, but his time was better spent elsewhere. He did make sure all the remaining trains could carry me, however. Something I was quite thankful for.
On the train I was thinking about the meeting coming up when I remembered what Valia had said in her apartment. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed about it.
I looked over at her and saw her staring at me with the same cocky expression she’d worn when she was naked.
Meh, she wasn’t going to be embarrassed.
“What is the religion like?” she asked.
“Nut jobs. Total fruitcakes. But don’t say that.”
“I’m not stupid…”
“Hobardi is a con man if there ever was one. And like any good con man, he’s smart. He has a mutant who works with him. I think my level or maybe even higher. He’s always with him. I want you to keep your eye on him.”
“What are his abilities?”
“I don’t know. See if you can pick up anything.”
After a train transfer, we were back walking on the street. The clothes of the pedestrians had abruptly changed.
People wore long colored togas with headdresses. There were whites, purples, oranges, yellows. The colors meant something, but damned if I knew what.
Once we entered the main building of the Church, the personnel changed yet again.
Instead of serene folks in bright togas, it was sexy women in scanty clothes.
Hobardi was an extreme womanizer. His religion probably had its origins in a complicated pick-up line.