Contractual Obligations: Part Eight (Final)

     Reynard looked out the window of the club, across the main tarmac and a sea of small aircraft to the Sunside Airport, crowned with a much-bruised and beaten Firenza. After the air battle and the Aztecs' utter defeat, several Mafia ships had arrived to tow the flagship back to Arcadia, where it resumed its customary position atop the enormous ziggurat—the only difference being that it was now swarming with repair personnel and vehicles, mending the gaping wound in its side.         Reynard brought his attention back to the present as he felt Frankie tap on his shoulder. He smiled, looking out across the grand dining hall of the club at a sea of Mafia higher-ups, including the Don himself, Elise seated next to him and giving him an indulgent smile. A sea of cocktail waiters and waitresses swarmed around like bees, one of them presently lighting on Reynard's table and delivering him a glass of his favorite single malt whiskey. At the table sat Frankie, Reynard, Anlek, and Luciano, the latter standing out in his black coat and tie—dark blue, unintentionally matching the mottled bruise spreading across the left side of his face. Reynard was bandaged as well, his shoulder bound tightly to his chest underneath his clothing. The need to scratch it was a constant one, but he had no intentions of scratch himself vigorously in front of the girl he was beginning to think was his girlfriend.

      Several hospitals in Arcadia City had seen a surge in patients when the Firenza returned, and Reynard had spent a day or two in a blissful intravenous haze as he got over the worst of the damage and shock he had taken from the blast wound on his shoulder. According to Anlek, Frankie had come to visit him while he was unconscious, fretting that he'd been aboard the airship when the Aztecs had attacked. Apparently she too had been working for the Mafia, running down a suspicious group of Aztecs that had been shadowing Luciano and Elise while they planned the Firenza's electronics upgrade. Now she was beside him, today, a guest of honor at this dinner for her efforts in shutting down the Aztecs' attack. She was wearing her Clip today, but—as only a few people would really notice—it was only modifying her true appearance a little, in some cases in minor and disconcerting ways.

      A few moments later, Don Carlo clanged a case knife against his wine goblet, calling the room to attention. “Today,” he began, “despite the intentions of our Family's enemies, we will be demonstrating a new piece of technology recently installed on the flagship of our airship fleet, the Firenza. A brilliant young man and his equally shrewd Eckoli partner were able to provide us with something truly interesting, something that may give us an undeniable edge against the other Families who plot against us—and even those that we just want to look good in front of.” This brought a chuckle from men and women throughout the room. “Elise, darling, if you would please,” he said, handing her a control pad the size of a Com3 device. In the center of the room, a younger man erected a signal detection device with a holographic HUD that stretched nearly to the ceiling. A list of signatures—from both airships and spaceships within the area—began to scroll up and down. The man tuned the machine down to a few hundred feet, located the Firenza on the list and selected it. Basic registered information about the ship showed up on the HUD, from size, to mass, to maximum occupancy.

      “Flip that first switch there, Elise,” the aging Don said, pointing to a spot on the device. Suddenly the information disappeared from the holographic display, replaced with the words 'Airship Firenza out of detection range'. A murmur ran through the crowd. “All right, now the second,” Carlo said. Information came back up on the screen, this time entirely wrong, describing a smaller independent ship called the Roman Holiday. Elise flipped a third switch. The Firenza's information came back up, but with subtle tweaks designed to confuse and hinder an enemy.              “Thank you, Elise,” the Don said, sitting down, and the room erupted with applause. Frankie smiled at Reynard as he fidgeted restlessly in his seat, not sure what to make of this newfound renown. Carlo went on to explain in no brief terms how this kind of device could be used against their enemies and that the technology would be making its way into space soon, to the edges of the system where pirates and bandits caused a constant problem for Mafia ships smuggling goods brought in by Eckoli, Colossi, and outsystem traders.

      Dinner arrived soon, a plate of heavy neo-Sicilian fare, and Reynard ate until he was stuffed to the seams, his first real meal since he'd set foot on the moon of Isis. Finally, over dessert, Luciano made his excuses and left the table to speak with the Don. Reynard turned to Frankie. “I guess I hadn't gotten the chance to say this yet, but thank you for coming when you did. We were beginning to have a hard time staying alive.”

      Frankie laughed. “I was pretty surprised—scared, too—to see you down there, bleeding out on the ground. I'm glad I came when I did too.”

      Anlek nodded. “Sorry bastards tried to take his baby away. Surely you didn't expect him to take it lying down?”

     “Afternoon chumps, also Frankie,” Elise said, sliding in to Luciano's vacant chair and leaning forward. “You did good, all of you. I heard you two were under the impression that I've been, ah, moonlighting for the Aztecs?”

      Reynard barely stopped himself from spitting out a mouthful of drink, he and Anlek flying full-tilt into a chatter of disclaimers and apologies before they realized she was laughing.

“It's all right. I know I don't always seem like someone they should trust. I'm an information broker at the end of the day, but I have a soft spot for the Don and his Family. So what was it, the furtive Com3 calls?”

      Anlek nodded uncertainly. “Yeah, that seemed pretty suspicious, you giving out our coordinates and whispering in empty hallways . . .”

      Frankie's mouth fell open. “She was on the phone with me. You thought she was spying for the Aztecs?!” Frankie erupted into gales of laughter. “She hates those bastards half as much as I do!”

      Reynard lifted a finger, speaking sheepishly. “What about the guy in the black cloak you kept talking to?”

      Elise grabbed Reynard's drink, slamming back half of its contents and leaving a smear of red lipstick on the rim as she pushed herself up from the table. “I was tryin' to get him in bed. You surprised?” She smiled at Reynard's embarrassed expression. “And by the way, yes, I was successful. See you around chumps, see you next week Frankie.”

      “Bye Elise,” Frankie said, turning around to laugh her boyfriend and his partner. “Hilarious.”

      Anlek shook his head. “That woman is a pain in the ass.”

      Frankie nodded. “Yeah, but she can be pretty entertaining at times.”

      The three were interrupted again as Luciano returned to the table, a triumphant grin on his face. “Anlek, Reynard, it has been a pleasure working with you. The Don is very excited about our partnership. I'll be sending you information on our next upgrade in the next few days.”

Reynard smiled, and Anlek emitted a pleased-sounding buzz through his modulator. “I'd hate to say it's been all fun, sir, but it's definitely been interesting. I'm looking forward to it too.”

Luciano grinned. “In the meantime, take a look at your credit account. I think you'll be pleased.”
Reynard pulled his Com3 device out of his pants pocket, flipping it open and sliding his finger across several holographs. Suddenly his eyes widened. “Mr. Luciano, this is nearly twice what we agreed on for the test run.”

      Reynard was forced to put his open Com3 down on the table as Luciano reached out to shake his hand, a truly magnificent number rotating in the air and bringing a low whistle from Anlek. Luciano walked away, giving a friendly goodbye wave. “Wow,” Reynard said. He turned to Frankie. “Frankie, I guess I won't be on this planet for long, if we're really headed outsystem soon. What do you say we do something special together?” Frankie's eyebrows went up. “I don't know what. I'll think about it.”

      Frankie smiled. “Sounds great. I'm sure we can work around my schedule.”

      Anlek laughed. “Surely there's a day or two you don't have slated for mayhem or chaos in the next couple of weeks, kid.”

      “One other thing,” Reynard said, “Given that I have no idea what I'm doing, do you think you could join the two of us at the shipyards sometime soon for a little bit of shopping? I believe I've got what I need for a down payment.”

      Anlek spluttered. “A ship? You didn't say a damn thing about it to me.”

      Frankie nodded. “Sure. What kind are you thinking of? I know a lot more about quality than price, and I learned all that in the last few months, but you're right, I do know a lot more than you do.” She smiled mischievously.

      Reynard tapped his chin. “I was thinking something light-freight sized, maybe docking for one shuttle, a good solid docking tube in case a particularly attractive friend of mine decides to come visit—and I mean you, Frankie, if that was too oblique.”

      Frankie smiled. “No, I got it. Compliment duly noted.”

      “Good. The only other thing is I'd like it to have either a large passenger cabin or an enclosable cargo compartment. Something big enough to hold, say, a small drinking establishment.”

      “Oh no you don't, Reynard!” Anlek said. “Do you want the damn thing to crash?”

      Reynard patted his partner, his friend, on the back. “No, I think our bad luck's run out, Anlek. Besides, I owe it to you. You fired that gun for me, and I don't plan to forget it.”

      Anlek muttered something, finally arriving at “thanks.”

     "You're welcome. So, what do you think you're gonna do with that broken down old electrical pole you've been carrying around thinking it was a horrifying weapon?”

      Anlek shrugged. “I dunno. I was kind of thinking it would make a good conversation piece hung behind the bar.”

      Reynard chuckled, looking over to see Frankie already poring over data on used ships on her Com3. “Hey, Frankie? I'm also gonna need a ship with sturdy, load-bearing bulkheads.”

      Frankie gave Reynard a serious look, seemingly ignoring his joke. “I think we can probably come up with something over drinks tonight.”

      Reynard grinned, looking out the window again at the enormous airship and the bright, perpetual day of Isis' light side. I guess our bad luck really has finally run out. “Hey,” he said, turning to Anlek. “I'm feeling pretty lucky today, and we never really got to go to the casino on the ship. I've got a date tonight, but if you wanna go hit the tables after this . . . ?”

      “Sure thing, partner.” He reached for his drink, and motioned for Reynard to take up his lipstick-stained tumbler. He raised his glass in a toast and Frankie and Reynard joined him. “To Isis,” he said, motioning out the window, “for finally turning our fortunes around.”

     

Contractual Obligations: Part Seven

      This is unreal, Reynard thought as he ran for cover in the next sheltered alcove overlooking the Firenza's glass bottom. He, Anlek, and Elise's group had advanced significantly toward the Aztecs, now standing where the entrance to the airship's hotel would be if the blast shield were not covering it. Peering up through the fronds of an ornamental fern, he fired several shots ineffectively at the crew of Aztecs trying to break into the engine service corridor. Anlek crouched beside him, an ascending whine coming from his gamma gun as it slowly powered up. Elise fell in on his opposite side, leaning out from the alcove and firing off a staccato hail of red bolts from her small silver pistol. “Hey, you're new at this, right?” she said, gesturing toward Reynard's pistol. Reynard nodded in affirmation. “Then just lay down suppressive fire and let the professionals do the work, okay?”

     Reynard nodded curtly again, popping up from his place of concealment as he flipped a toggle on the side of his small gun, setting it to auto fire. Suddenly thoughts of Elise being a double agent entered his mind, but after watching her fight he laid them aside, ready now to agree with Luciano that the very idea was preposterous. As if in answer to his thoughts, he spotted a white shape moving up in the air and saw Luciano being roughly shoved aboard one of the Aztec skiffs along with two other dark-suited individuals.

      “Elise!” Reynard yelled as the information broker followed her troop of Mafia men forward to another position. “They've got Luciano on one of their skiffs.”

      Elise swore under her breath, then yelled “Get down!” as one of the Aztecs fired off a rocket-propelled grenade in their direction. Elise's group had been the intended target, but the distracted soldier had overshot. The grenade landed with a concussive thud a few feet away from Reynard. He threw himself backward as the shell exploded, turning the terra cotta planter he'd been hiding behind into so many shards of dust and shattering the semi-circular glass balustrade that had been providing them with cover. “Come on!” Elise yelled.

      Anlek cursed under his breath as he and Reynard crouched down, running as fast as they could for the next alcove and its protection. Without looking up, Reynard laid down a few rounds of suppressive fire into the air near the Aztec soldiers. There was no warning, no real sound or feeling at first, for what happened next. As Reynard dived for cover, Anlek directly behind him, he felt an intensely hot sensation on his left arm, and suddenly couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing. As he dived, he realized that several of the Aztecs had moved forward into one of the opposite alcoves. He saw the flash of their laser carbines as they fired again. The next thing he knew he had hit the ground behind Elise, and two of the Mafia toughs attending her had dragged him into the alcove. He was shaking. He was cold where he had been so hot just a few moments prior. He suddenly realized the smell of burning flesh and ozone was coming from his left shoulder. Unconsciousness threatened to encroach, but a string of Eckoli curse words so foul that they greeted his translator with only hissing static flying from his partner kept him awake, and grinning like an idiot. Which I guess I am. “Anlek,” he said quietly, “don't let those bastards take my baby.” He nearly slipped into unconsciousness at that, until one of Elise's toughs placed a capsule in his mouth and pushed up on his jaw, breaking it and releasing a foul taste. Adrenaline, Reynard thought. That should keep me awake for a few minutes.

      Hell no, this is NOT going happen this way, Anlek thought, unleashing a string of curses the young race of man had no idea how to replicate. He lifted his gamma gun, turning to his partner, friend, and former slave. “I guess you're right. I am going to have to finally use this damn thing. Personally, I think I'll be happy to see these bastards' insides melt.”

      Elise's men were retrieving grenades from their belts to throw at the nearby alcove, now infested with Aztec invaders, when Elise spotted the gray and green carapace of the Eckoli rush by them. “Hold your grenades and follow, boys, the bug's gone berserk!”

Anlek led the charge, leveling his enormous gamma gun on his shoulder and pulling the trigger as he neared the Aztecs, the four Mafia men and Elise in tow.

      The gun stuttered, and one of the Aztecs who should have taken a direct hit from the fearsome weapon looked down at his abdomen in disbelief. “Son of a BITCH!” Anlek screamed, his insectoid chittering nearly drowning out the noise from the voice modulator. It didn't work. All the time he'd spent laboring over whether or not to use the weapon, all the credits he'd spent, all the times he'd used the weapon as an amazing tool of intimidation, meant nothing now as four Aztecs raised their laser carbines at him, looks of confusion on their faces.

      Anlek had never been so angry in his long life. Transferring the gun to his lower, stronger appendages, he forged on through a hail of fire, barreled forward toward his targets as he heard one of the men following him in hit the ground. Crouching down, he brought the weapon down in a wide arc, sweeping two of the Aztecs off of their feet as another of the invaders fell to Mafia fire. With another hard strike he smashed out the glass balustrade the Aztecs had been backing up against. One, a grizzled warrior holding a grenade launcher, teetered on the edge, struggling to maintain his balance as the metal railing broke and went whipping out over the empty air. Anlek roared again, slamming the broken gamma gun down onto the head of one of the men he had tripped, a smear of bright red blood blossoming against the weapon's lens, then whipping the gun around and slamming its butt end into the teetering soldier, sending him flying out over the abyss and falling with a scream onto a bed of smoldering parts from the destroyed tilt-rotor craft.

      Elise took cover behind what was left of the balustrade, shooting Anlek a look of incredulity.   “Something wrong with your gun?” she asked.

      “No,” Anlek said, hoisting the blood-stained gun. “Works just fine.”

      Reynard lay on his side in the alcove, watching Anlek's charge with fear and excitement, trying to cheer when his friend and the others finished all four of their enemies in a few seconds' time. His exuberance, however, changed to panic when he saw one of the skiffs—the one containing Luciano and the others—angle down toward Anlek and Elise's position. He tried to cry out, but was met with only a weak cough as the large gun mounted on the front of the skiff reported, slicing down another of Elise's men and knocking most of the rest of the group off of their feet. Anlek stood like a sitting duck on the edge of the balcony, and Reynard held his breath as the skiff's gunner swiveled the repeater toward his partner.

      Suddenly Reynard's vision was blocked. He was disoriented for a moment, trying to look around it, until he realized that every holoprojector in the Firenza seemed to have come to life, obstructing the view of combatants on both side.

      On every one of them was the face of a black cat, cheerful and blue-eyed.

      The Firenza suddenly lurched, diving sharply downward. Reynard was thrown painfully onto his injured side and pressed against the balcony's glass balustrade. Across the way, he could see that two of the remaining Mafia men were trying to help Anlek regain his balance. The skiffs, however, were unable to maintain their equilibrium, their lift drives too slow and too powerful to hold their altitude. One skiff went smashing into the airship's ceiling, pieces of chandelier and fresco raining down onto the combatants below. The one holding Luciano veered sharply. Reynard, trying to roll onto his back, saw Luciano jump from the side, his beleaguered captors unable to respond. Elise caught him and threw him just as her two men brought Anlek down, and the six of them fell into a tumbled heap.

       A look back toward the service corridor entrance made Reynard groan. Despite being forced to keep their balance with the ship's sudden change of pitch, they had finally sawed through the door's expensive lock. They were about to enter when they glanced back, stricken. The cat's heads had suddenly blinked out, and light flared through the cloud of black dust now filling the air as every projector in the ship swung around to project a message, written in red, onto the blast shield protecting the passengers.

      Now what does that mean? thought Reynard. El asisino de sus hijos y padres ha llegado? Anlek taught me some Spanish. When it hit him, he jumped up, speaking aloud. “The murderer of your sons and fathers has arrived!” he screamed, the adrenaline in his system overriding his pain. He took a moment to glance below as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. There, below the Firenza, a ship came rising out of the cloud bank. It was painted crimson, and some definite modifications had been made, but there was no mistaking its shape as it came up level with the Firenza. Reynard thought he could see the steely glint of goggles through the Wayfarer's forward canopy as the ship's top turret came around, firing in through the massive hole in the Firenza's side to impale one of the Aztecs' skiffs in a blinding explosion. He almost thought he could see the delighted prance of a small black kitten on the ship's dashboard as the Aztecs began to rout. He wasn't sure though—his wound sent him sprawling into the floor and into blackness, overriding his adrenaline high, robbing him of his chance to be absolutely certain that Frankie had turned and smiled down at Reynard.

  

Contractual Obligations: Part Six

Contractual Obligations: Part Six

“Attention all passengers and crew, we are approaching the Alexandria Mountains,” a pleasant voice blared over the loudspeaker. “This marks the halfway point of our journey, as we will be crossing over to the dark side in just a few moments.”
Anlek chuckled from his position above the electronics pit, his insectoid legs dangling down into the service shaft. “That sounds a little ominous. You wanna go take a look?”
Reynard looked up from his work, visibly distracted. “Um . . . Sure. I’m nearly done, and I could use a little break anyway.”
Elise arrived as the two of them left the service shaft, tucking her Com3 device into her pocket. She seemed startled at their presence, but smiled deprecatingly when she realized who was approaching. “Going to watch the changeover?” she asked. They nodded in response. “All right. Take care of yourselves--I’m going to be busy for the next few hours. If you get done with your project there, feel free to spend the rest of the trip relaxing.”
Elise walked off, her hips swaying behind too-tight jeans. “Thank you for the permission, Elise,” Reynard muttered under his breath. The two found their way to the lift at the end of the service tunnel, and spent the next half hour or so watching the changeover and enjoying the spectacle of the mountains. The Firenza had dived down between the highest peaks and was shining her brightest spotlights, making for quite a view.
“So,” Anlek said, “From what I can tell you’ve only got a little bit of work ahead of you. Should we let Luciano know we’ll be ready for the demonstration in the morning?”
Reynard shook his head. “No, I want to be absolutely certain of it first, and I’ll need a little time away from it to judge it properly. Give me about an hour to finish up, then we’ll hit the casino. I couldn’t sleep tonight if I tried.”
Anlek shrugged, chitinous plates screeching against one another. “Suit yourself. I’ve been napping on and off all day, so I’m good for an all-nighter. Have you heard anything from Frankie about getting together when you get back to Arcadia?”
Reynard frowned. “No, I haven’t. I really thought things were going well, but . . . I guess she’s always going to be hard to pin down, Anlek.”
“Well who says she’s yours to pin down?”
The boy shook his head, a strand of blonde hair falling over his glasses. “It’s not really like that. But how hard is it to make yourself available? I’m building illegal electronics on a flying cruise ship and I’ve got my phone on, you know? I’m not bitter, I guess it just seems like such a mixed signal to me.” Reynard brushed the hair out of his eyes, noticed that his glasses were a mass of sticky dust. He removed them and began rubbing vigorously at them with the hem of his favorite green shirt. “Anyway, let’s go back and get this over with. They’re gonna like this one, Anlek. It’s downright elegant.”
Anlek chuckled. “I believe you, kid, but I still want to see it in action.”

“All right, that’s the final touch, my friend. Ready to hit the casino?”
Anlek huffed a sigh of relief. “Yes, definitely. Twenty-four consecutive hours of being your tool-jockey is enough for me.”
Reynard cocked his head at his partner. “Yeah, I suppose it must be boring for you. But hey, at least we’re making money, right?”
“Yeah, that’s good anyway. It’ll definitely be a nice change.”
The two boarded the elevator and headed for the third level up, the sprawling casino that made up the core of the Firenza. No longer dazzled by the ship, they talked about their time on Anu, trading stories about some of their more unhinged customers and the enjoyment Anlek had gotten out of intimidating them. They were both surprised to see Luciano, now dressed in a fine white tuxedo, approach them as they walked down the red carpeted staircase that marked the entrance to the casino itself, the balcony overlooking the ship’s atrium behind them.
“Good evening boys,” he said. “How are things going?”
Reynard smiled, pushing his glasses up and realizing he was a little underdressed compared to the rest of the clientele. “Quite good, sir. We’ve finished the initial production. I’m taking a little break to give myself some objectivity before I go back in and make a few tweaks.”
“Excellent!” Luciano said, his hand landing on Reynard’s shoulder again. “What do you say I treat the two of you to a round of drinks?”
Reynard and Anlek exchanged glances. “That sounds excellent,” Reynard said, “but there’s something we thought we should mention to you.”
Luciano beckoned them forward on to the busy central floor of the casino, then gestured over to a secluded booth along the far side of the enormous room. The three walked for what seemed like a kilometer between automatic blackjack tables, holographic fighting games, and an ornately reconstructed roulette table, finally finding their seat. A cocktail waitress--young, attractive, and unbelievably nervous to be serving a dignitary like Luciano--stepped up and smilingly took their order. After studiously watching her leave, Luciano snapped his head around to look at Anlek and Reynard. “So, what is it that’s concerning you?”
Reynard fiddled with his glasses. “Well, I know this may sound ridiculous, but we’ve had some strange encounters with Elise the last day or so. She’s been acting . . . Suspicious.”
Luciano pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. At first Reynard thought he was upset, but then, to his dismay, realized the older man was trying not to laugh. “Son,” he said, “I have a few things to say about Elise that aren’t entirely complimentary. But I will tell you that’s she’s absolutely a professional. She’s loyal to the Don, for one thing, and for another if she was doing something she didn’t want you to see, you wouldn’t see it.”
Anlek and Reynard both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Sorry for the assumption then, Luciano,” Anlek said. No one at the table had any illusions that he meant what he was saying. The three shared a drink, somewhat tersely, and then Luciano excused himself.
Reynard shook his head as Luciano left. “Maybe we’re wrong, Anlek. Probably best not to worry about it.
Anlek nodded. “Probably so. But it still seemed pretty off to me. I guess it’s on them if she’s selling their secrets.”
Reynard scowled. “Nobody takes my secrets, damn it. I’ll . . . Hire Frankie to go after her or something if she fucks with my new suite.”
Anlek laughed. “You’re like a proud moth--”
Anlek’s sentence was abruptly cut off as the entire ship was wrenched by a sickening thud. Red lights began flashing along the casino’s walls. Patrons and employees alike jumped up from their seats, sending glasses and fifty-credit plates of food flying into the air. Reynard launched himself from the booth he and Anlek were sitting in. His eyes were focused on the opposite end of the casino, toward the balcony that overlooked the forward atrium. The distance was incredible, and a crowd of people, tables and machines stood in his way, but he could just see the shadow of a blast door beginning to quietly seal the passenger section of the ship.
Reynard broke into a sprint. “We can NOT get shut in here. I have to get back to the engine sector.”
“What the HELL is going on?” Anlek yelled, his voice modulator crackling with the volume.
The two weaved through a stampede of frightened patrons as a calm voice repeated instructions about a state of emergency. Over the din of screams and blaring sirens, it advised passengers to immediately head for one of the designated shelters, marked on holomaps that began appearing in midair every few feet. Reynard ignored the warnings completely, pushing his way to the front of the throng and eventually jumping up the shallow red stairs to the balcony two at a time. The blast door was coming inexorably down, and he was forced to dive through the narrowing gap, throwing himself against the railing to stop his momentum. Anlek fared worse, his bulky carapace preventing him from moving nimbly. As the door came down, he was forced to throw himself to the ground and roll through. The edge of the door screeched against his exoskeleton, leaving a long scratch across his back.
At the railing, Reynard was crouching down, pointing out into the atrium.
“That’s what’s going on,” he whispered.
Below them, what had recently been a beautiful sight had turned to madness. All along the port side of the ship, Nemoan drill-rockets were grinding their way into the transparent side of the Firenza. Just outside the ship lurked at least five skiffs, the Aztec emblem clearly burned into their prows. Each ship was full to the brim with heavily armed Aztec soldiers and a smattering of mercenaries, every one of them armed to the teeth and brandishing their weapons, waiting for the first drill to complete its incision. On the inside of the ship, running across the walkways like furious ants, darkly-dress Mafia men and women readied their arms. Some were busy setting up heavy weaponry, while others were calibrating EMP guns and aiming them at the approaching drills, waiting for their first and last shot at halting their progress. Below the ship, clouds were scudding. The Firenza had left its tour of the mountain range and returned to high altitude. There was no escape from their assailants.
“Well shit,” Anlek said, succinctly. The cruise had suddenly become a battle.
The first drill finally met its mark. Four EMP guns shot out at it, halting its progress. In the meantime, two other drills pushed through the heavily-shielded transparent material, falling with a resounding clang to the bottom of the ship. The firestorm began as Aztec soldiers began firing potshots through the breaches, several of them lobbing grenades into the Firenza. The Mafia members fired back, but their shots were ineffective. Finally a very large tilt-rotor craft hovered down to the level of the other craft. “Stand back!” a familiar voice bellowed from below as the craft slammed into the weakened side of the ship, sending smoke and shards of the hull everywhere. Several Mafia members were thrown off their walkways.
Reynard had become transfixed watching the fight unfold, until Anlek prodded him roughly in the side. “This is pretty fun to watch, but don’t you think we ought to get downstairs?”
Reynard nodded, breaking into a run, headed for the starboard lift that would take them down into the engine sector of the ship. When he arrived, his skidded to a halt, Anlek nearly slamming into him from behind. The lift was closed. “Dammit!” Reynard screamed, and ran for the service corridor that led to a long staircase. Anlek followed, puffing with exertion as his young partner ran with a frenzy and determination he’d never witnessed.
Reynard threw himself down the stairs two at a time, having to catch himself on the railing to keep from tumbling down the stairwell several times. The stairs seemed eternal to Reynard. Outside the service corridor, sounds of battle raged. What if they’ve already gotten to it? he thought. This had all seemed a little too good to be true.
When Anlek and Reynard finally arrived at engine level, they burst out of the stairwell door onto the viewing platform overlooking the atrium at the closest level. Reynard turned left, headed for the access corridor which was, of course, on the port side of the ship. As he did, he saw a far more chaotic scene that they had witnessed at the top of the stairs.
There was a gaping hole in the side of the ship, and despite the fact that the Firenza seemed to be hovering, a whipping wind ripped through the atrium, stealing Reynard’s breath. The tilt-rotor craft which had rammed the airship had been shot down, presumably by the heavy laser cannons that lined several of the walkways, and was smoking and flaming at the bottom of the ship, obscuring a section of the view. Worse yet, three of the five skiffs had made their way into the ship through the breach. Two were busy flying back and forth across the port side, their heavily-armed inhabitants engaging in an open and brutal fire fight with the Mafia fighters. The third skiff had landed just shy of the engine service corridor, divulging at least ten Aztec fighters and a team of demolitions experts who were doing their best to blow the blast shield on the service door open.
“What the hell do we do now?” Anlek asked, ducking back behind a decorative plant on the viewing platform.
The answer came from above, as a lance of red light struck the nearest Aztec. Behind Anlek and Reynard there was a thud as Elise landed in a crouch, one high-heeled shoe clacking against the deck. Five of the most muscular Mafia men Reynard had seen to date followed suit, jumping down about ten feet from a walkway positioned above the platform, each one brandishing a heavy laser carbine. Elise pushed Reynard behind the plant as her men took cover and began firing over the two thousand foot distance between their position and the engine access door. “Hey chumps,” she said, a smile of glee on her face. “So, Reynard, you want to help us take that door back from these Aztec bastards?”
Reynard glared back at her, retrieving the large pistol from his pants waistband. In response, Anlek un-slung the enormous gamma gun from his back, nothing but silence emitting from his modulator.
Reynard looked up at his partner. “Looks like you might have to use the thing after all.”

Contractual Obligations: Part Five

     “Anlek, I need the tenser. No, the blue one.”

      Anlek rummaged around in Reynard's toolkit, producing a small blue tool. He leaned over the pit Reynard was working in, handing him the tenser. “Here you go. How's it coming along?”

Reynard looked up at Anlek, smiling as he pushed his glasses up on his face. “I feel like I've fallen down the best well ever.” Reynard was positioned at the bottom of a ten-foot shaft, filled from top to bottom with some of the most expensive electronic equipment he had ever seen. The shaft was the sum total of the Firenza's electronics suite, carefully hidden within the engine maintenance corridor below and aft of the ship's atrium, and directly underneath the hotel that made up the ship's lowest commercial tier.

      Anlek looked around suspiciously, then leaned down toward his partner. “So what did you think of Elise and the Don?”

      Reynard shook his head. “I can't tell whether he thinks of her as a daughter or a lover, but I never thought she could act so sugary sweet.” Reynard shivered at the thought of the act she had put on. “Luciano was right, though, that does explain why they're stuck with her even though she's not 'Family', so to speak.” Reynard tweaked several wires, then reverently pulled a piece of paper from a plastic envelope. Pencil in hand, he began sketching out a circuit diagram, his brow knitted with concentration.

      “Look sharp, chump,” was the only warning Reynard received before he felt the bottle of soda flying toward his head. He barely managed to catch the drink before it hit him full on the nose, throwing his body protectively over his paper.

      “Shit!” he said. “I don't have a lot of these, you know,” he said, waving the diagram at her.

Elise shrugged indifferently, handing Anlek an unopened drink, a cup, and a device Eckoli used as straws. “Well don't expect much help from me if you can't be grateful,” she said, walking away with a smirk on her face.

      Reynard followed her with his eyes, a dark glare on his face. “Must be nice to be untouchable,” he muttered under his breath. Meanwhile Anlek fiddled with the drink container, designed for human hands, and was eventually able to pour himself a drink. “Man, whoever this Ennis was, I guarantee you she'd have been a better concierge.”

      Reynard ignored his partner, absorbed in his work again. “So,” Anlek said, “how many days do you really think this is gonna take to install?”

      Reynard shrugged. “I dunno. Four or five?” He adjusted himself until he sat cross-legged at the bottom of the shaft, materials set around him. “Dammit. Anlek, I think I'm out of ceramic binder. I didn't think I'd need it, but this is a pretty classy setup. Can you go ask that maintenance guy if he has any?”

     Anlek, having just managed the first sip of his drink, sighed. “Sure thing, buddy. Need anything else while I'm up? These guys just love letting an Eckoli borrow their shit.”

Reynard shook his head, absorbed again in his circuit map, his pencil scratching on the fine, creamy paper. Anlek muttered to himself, then left the small, cramped compartment and headed down the small, cramped hallway that traversed between the engine room and the maintenance complex. It wasn't long before he realized he'd gone the wrong way. As he turned to go the other way, he heard a familiar muffled voice coming from one of the side passages that led toward the emergency exit. It wasn't until he'd crept closer, moving very stealthily for a creature his size that happened to be covered in a jointed exoskeleton, that he realized it was Elise's voice.

      “Yes,” she said, exasperation in her voice, “I told you, you have the coordinates. There's not much else I can give you right now. Just make sure you're there, or things could get interesting.” There was a long pause on the end of the line. “Good,” Elise said, softly. “I'll try to make sure the device is ready. Goodbye.” Anlek heard the click of a closing Com3 device, then quickly shoved his way into another service passage farther down the hall until he heard Elise's high-heeled shoes click their way down the hall and past the electronics room.

      “Here's your whatever it is glue,” Anlek said, chucking the tube down the shaft. Reynard grunted his appreciation, catching the powerful adhesive and unscrewing the cap, a pencil between his teeth. “So,” Reynard said, “I think Elise might be a spy.”

      Reynard spit the pencil out, a strangling noise rising from his throat. “Why don't you say that a little louder?” he whispered.

      “Because, Reynard, whispering is so obvious. Seriously though, I heard a very interesting phone call a minute ago.” Anlek began to fill Reynard in on the suspicious conversation, until he heard, and smelled Luciano coming down the hallway.

      “Good afternoon, boys,” the older man said. In stark contrast to their original meeting with him, the mafioso was dressed in his finest suit. “I thought you might want to come out for a minute. The ship's about to take off.”

      Reynard looked profoundly disinterested at the thought, but nodded to Luciano. “Sure thing, Sir. I've never seen this part of the city from the air.”

      Luciano chuckled. “Oh, you'll get a chance to see more than just the light side of Arcadia from the air. The Firenza is headed out on a four-day trip across the moon. A convenient period of time for a certain installation, wouldn't you agree?”

      Reynard smiled. “Definitely, sir.”

      The three headed out of the service-way and into the large engine complex. Several massive thrust engines throbbed and hummed in a large depression below. Running on idle, they were only a little deafening, but as they began to whirr more and more loudly, preparing for takeoff, Luciano hustled the others out of the room and shut the soundproof door behind him. Outside the door was a large bank of elevators, which led them up into the passenger areas of the ship. Luciano stopped the lift at the next level up, then ushered Anlek and Reynard out into a massive crowd of passengers, peppered with the occasional mafioso or guard. Most of the clear walkways looking over the expansive glass bottom of the ship were full to bursting with passengers, but Luciano led them directly toward a roped-off walkway inhabited solely by finely-dressed men of a Sicilian persuasion.

      Just as they found a place to stand, the ship began to rise, slowly at first, then with unimaginable speed for something bigger than many military spacecraft. Arcadia expanded and shrank below them, hotel after casino after garish holograph until they could see the night-line clearly. Reynard thought again about Frankie, resisting the urge to crane his neck around and try to find her apartment building from the airship. It had been incredible to actually see her in person, and he hoped he'd be able to find her again when his tour on the Firenza was over. After last night, I actually feel pretty confident she'll stick around just to see me. It was a comfortable feeling, but somehow it made Reynard even more nervous than not knowing if she was truly interested.

      Anlek tapped Reynard on the arm, breaking his reverie. He pointed gently up into the air, over toward one of the other suspended walkways. It took Reynard a moment to see what he was trying to point out, until he saw the familiar shape of Elise's denim jacket swaying as she settled herself forward over the railing. She seemed to be looking out onto the city, until he noticed her face turned slightly to the side. She was standing next to a man in a long gray coat, wearing a distinctly nondescript hat. Reynard could make out little else about the man, but turned to stare at Anlek, a look of surprise on his face. What is Elise up to . . . . He recalled her sudden departure from Luciano's office the day before, her impatience when transporting them, the conversation Anlek had overheard. He leaned in toward Anlek. “If she's planning something . . . “ he whispered, “how the hell are we supposed to convince Luciano she's a traitor?”

      Below them, the city of Arcadia looked like a small-scale model, and clouds whipped by as the enormous airship flew west, across the light side of Isis. “I don't know,” Anlek said. “Just stay sharp. You know, if you're capable of being sharp in the first place.”

  

Contractual Obligations: Part Four

      Anlek woke with a groan as the alarm clock blared in his ears. Apparently he'd fallen asleep in the floor, though he had no recollection of even entering the hotel. I hope I wasn't an asshole to the front help, he thought to himself. But then, this was Isis, they were probably plenty used to assholes. To his surprise, he saw the pale, pantsless form of Reynard sprawled across his bed, sheets wrapped around him in such a way that it looked like he'd lost a fight with them.

     The Eckoli rose stiffly and shuffled across the hotel room, poking Reynard in the back with his least pointy hand. The boy woke, emitting a string of nonsense words, his glasses wrenched sideways across his face. Finally he sat up, blinked a few times, and rose, finding his clothing.

Anlek laughed. “Well good morning, sunshine. Do you really think you should wear yesterday's clothes to our meeting with the Don?”

      Reynard blinked again, regaining a further measure of consciousness. “Oh yeah, that,” he said, and headed for his suitcase, propped open next to the bathroom door. “You don't look like you slept too great, Anlek.”

      Anlek grunted. “Neither did you. So, did you find Frankie last night?”

      Reynard answered with a sheepish grin. “Yeah. I did. I found her at her apartment, we went out for a few drinks and talked for a while.”

      Anlek met Reynard's gaze, a gesture that always unnerved the human. “So, ah, did you . . . “

      Reynard shook his head a little too vehemently, his glasses threatening to fly away. “No, we didn't.” Reynard was donning a collared shirt at this point, and seemed to be making extra effort to keep the collar smoothed against the left side of his neck. Underneath the pallor of sleep deprivation, he was turning a rosy shade of pink.

      Anlek nodded—a gesture he'd learned purely from being around humans for so many years. “I'm glad to hear it, Reynard.”

      The boy cocked his head at Anlek. “Really? I was kind of counting on you making fun of me for being so timid.” Anlek shook his head at this.

      “No. Frankie's actually worth your time, which means she's worth taking time over. I don't really understand your disgusting mating rituals or anything, but I know when a human being is worth a damn. You get ONE point of respect from me, Reynard. Don't squander it.”

      Reynard smiled. “Yeah. Okay. For the record though, I don't understand your peoples' disgusting mating rituals either--”

      “Hey! That is not disgusting, we have a symbiotic relationship with the varin beasts. They were made for incubation.”

       Reynard turned green. “That . . . I didn't want to know that at all.”

      Anlek passed the now fully dressed Reynard on his way to the door. “Nah, I'm just messin' with you. We pretty much fuck just like you guys.”

      “I'm not sure that makes me any happier,” Reynard muttered under his breath, shouldering his bag of equipment and shutting the hotel door.

      A short cab drive later, the two arrived at the Sunside Airport, a pyramidal structure with a number of airships docked onto terminals all over its surface. The smaller airships of the Mafia's fleet huddled beside commercial ships on the bottom tiers of the shining black ziggurat, more easily able to lift off from a lower position. The farther one went up the structure, the larger the the airships were—from yacht-sized pleasure cruisers to flying shopping malls to airborne casinos and bordellos—until one finally reached the top tier. Moored on a small pedestal was the Firenza, a marvel of engineering and carefully polished titanium. The airship itself was a good quarter larger than the next ship in the fleet, and contained a shopping mall, casino, luxury hotel, botanical gardens, even a menagerie of rare Terran animals that the CA reclamation projects had actually managed to breed. Anlek and Reynard spent what seemed like a half an hour traversing the inside of the Sunside Airport before finally reaching the glass-sided elevator that sped its way up through the center of the building.

      Had the two been paying closer attention, rather than bickering about whether or not they were late to a meeting with the most powerful man on the planet, they might have noticed a few interesting things. As they made their way past the South point news kiosk, they might have noticed a man in a brown suit dropping his Com3 device, only to thank one of the custodial staff for picking the device up and pocketing it. They might have noticed the same janitor retreating into a side corridor to make a call, or even thought it odd that a man only a few hundred feet away shut off his Com3 at the exact moment that the janitor did. Though his movements were subtle, they might have been vaguely suspicious when a fourth man, this one dressed for business and seemingly in an incredible hurry, thumbed his watch and quickly swiped a scanner across Reynard's briefcase. They would definitely have remarked to one another on why someone in such a great rush should have such a pleased expression on his face.

      “I keep telling you it's fine, Anlek,” Reynard said as the elevator began to rise. “The place was bigger than we expected and we can apologize to this Ennis lady when we get there. Calm down.”

Reynard didn't have to tell Anlek twice. He had been ignoring the boy since the elevator started moving. From up here it was easy to see the intended layout of the Sunside Airport's main atrium. Fountains, mosaic tiles, greenery, and strategically-placed kiosks and cafes had all been expertly arranged to form a pefect picture of the nation of Italy, the Mafia's home island Sicily nearly touching the tip of its southern peninsula. Anlek made the Eckoli approximation of a whistle, then nudged Reynard. “Hey, shut up for three seconds and look at that.”

      Reynard squinted, adjusting his glasses. “Why the hell does the floor plan look like a boot?”

      Anlek sighed. “I'm pretty damn sure I taught you better than that, boy. That's ITALY. You know, like, from Earth? It's where the mafia was born.”

     Reynard smiled impishly. “Yeah, I really couldn't stand Terran history. I overlaid the teaching program you gave me with pictures of naked ladies I swiped off that guy Rennish's hard drive.”

      “Reynard, you got perfect grades in history. It was your best subject.”

      “Yeah, I hacked your computer and stole your test answers.”

      “Fuck you, Reynard. Fuck you.”

      A few minutes later, after taking on passengers at separate levels, the elevator sped up to astronomical speeds, and the two found themselves looking out onto the grand chamber of the Firenza. If the airport had been amazing, the airship was breathtaking. The stern of the ship was filled with attractions and businesses, but the bow was one large chamber crisscrossed with clear walkways. Below that, a crystal-clear glass bottom stretched nearly from port to starboard. Reynard found himself inhaling sharply at the sight of it as the two disembarked from the elevator and, checking holographic maps hanging every hundred feet or so, made their way around the outside of the ship on a moving walkway toward the conference facilities located just aft of the control complex. Anlek adjusted his ubiquitous gun and polished a smudge off of his carapace as the heavy doors to the board room loomed closer. Reynard chose that moment to look down, nearly missing the last step off of the walkway. Currently the view from the airship faced directly down onto the Sunside Airport. From what he'd heard, the Firenza took shorter flights most days, but once a week did a full circuit of the moon, traversing Arcadia City and on across the uninhabited mountains of the dark side, then back across the golf course- and amusement park-strewn countryside of the light side. It would be the perfect time to work on his new masterpiece, and he quietly hoped that the ship was disembarking for its worldwide trip during the next couple of days.

      “Good morning, chumps.” Reynard jumped at least three inches into the air at the sound of the familiar voice, and turned with what must have been a less than polite expression on his face, only to see Elise standing behind him. The woman was without her sunglasses, and Reynard noted with a detached, ill feeling that her eyes were green today when they had been blue the day before.

      Anlek recovered with greater speed than his partner. “Good morning, Elise. Here to see my friend impress the Don?”

Elise smirked. “Not really, no. I'm here to be your concierge for the remainder of your trip.”

“What--” Reynard started, then forced himself to begin again. “What happened to the Ennis woman they told us to meet?”

      Luciano chose this moment to emerge from the polished wood door of the conference room, shrugging apologetically. “Good morning, boys. Sorry, Miss Ennis had some urgent matters to attend to on the nightside, and had to join her partners for a time. Elise here will be happy to assist you. As a matter of fact, she volunteered for the job.”

      Elise laughed. “What Luci means is that Ennis's partners blew more shit up and he had to send her to rein them in. I'll be happy to see to it that you remain productive and at least marginally comfortable during your trip.” She waved toward the conference room. “Shall we?”

       Luciano clapped Anlek and Reynard on their respective shoulders and beckoned them forward, a look of contrition on his face. “I'm sorry about that,” he muttered. “I think you'll see why she has me at her disposal in a moment.” He opened the door to the conference room, and waved them in. “I'd say it's about time the two of you meet Don Carlo.”

Contractual Obligations

Part Three

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m cautiously optimistic,” Reynard said, smiling slyly at Anlek. The two of them were walking down the street outside Luciano’s makeshift office, Reynard with his hands in his jacket pockets, Anlek with his gamma gun strapped comfortably once again across his shoulders. This particular road was lowered, so the two of them were safe from traffic as they walked down a paved sidewalk 5 meters above the floatcars whirring by below.
Anlek chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I am at that. A life working for the mafia, just imagine it! We drink expensive wine, you get introduced to women with negotiable morals, we both go home smelling like cheap cologne every day . . . “
Reynard prodded his partner with an elbow. “Hush up about that while we’re in this part of town. Everyone knows it’s actually incredibly expensive cologne and they pay extra to get it smelling like it cost five credits.” Reynard grinned, then looked up speculatively at the day-night line, looming only a few miles away. “So, I guess we’ve got the rest of the day off. That’s, like, at least four or five hours until your bedtime, right?”
Anlek gave Reynard a flat stare. “Quit beating around the bush. I know you want to go looking for Frankie. Just come right out and say it!” 
Reynard looked sheepish. “Well, I didn’t want to jinx it . . . And I didn’t want to l--” Reynard stopped himself midsentence, his mouth agape. “I mean, I 
Know you can entertain yourself, right? Why don’t I go out to her place and I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”
Anlek shrugged. “Sounds good to me. Don’t wait up for me if you get back before I do. I’m gonna go see the sights a bit.”
Reynard looked at him sideways. “Sure, have fun on this bullshit moon, don’t fall into any tourist traps you’re too big to pull out of.”
Anlek made a rude gesture that required more than two arms, then headed toward a gleaming metal bridge built across the highway labeled ‘bus stop’. A few seconds later, a large floatbus came to a stop along the side of the road, and a hatch built into the top of the vehicle folded back to reveal an escalator that lined up perfectly with the bridge. “See you later, Reynard. Good luck with the girl.”
Back on the sidewalk, Reynard tucked his hands further down into the pockets of his grey jacket, feeling a chill in the nightside air a lot more acutely than he had before. Yeah, he thought, Good luck.


Reynard took stock of his situation as he neared Frankie’s apartment building, a nondescript but clean metal building constructed to look like a light grey stone, with copper-colored front doors and windows. He shifted the bouquet of flowers to his left hand and flipped open his Com3, checking to make sure it was the right building, then stepped into the lobby. Except for a bored-looking custodian and a couple of chatting female residents, the place was empty. Reynard walked across the room and stepped up to a terminal, where he entered the 5-digit entry code Frankie had given him on his last visit to her, nearly four months past. 
Reynard wasn’t as confident as he’d been when they’d started seeing each other. He wasn’t nearly as confident as he’d been the day they’d met, but then that had been more bravado and bluster than anything else. There were several problems that had sprung up, though the majority of them were probably creatures of Reynard’s imagination. For one thing, Reynard had no clue what to do with a woman, in every possible sense. The pathetic types who had clung onto him now and then back on Anu, where he’d lived since about the time he’d hit adolescence, were very easy to anticipate--they would give him free access to their imaginary virtues in exchange for access to his imaginary wallet, until the latter turned out to be an illusion, at which point they would leave, sometimes quietly, sometimes angrily. It was a cycle Reynard was used to. He knew he cared for Frankie, not to mention found her exponentially more attractive than anyone he’d ever been with, but had no idea how to go about it. Reynard and Anastasia (or was her name Indira now?) had made it clear enough to him that he was ham-fisted when he wasn’t downright offensive. 
Reynard entered the elevator, punching in the appropriate level. And then there’s the matter of getting her attention, he thought glumly to himself. Frankie was busy, and from what he could tell her work was her passion. After all the more impressive one’s reputation is, the more time and effort it takes to keep it up. Which is why up until now I’ve never had to spend much time grooming my public face. They messaged each other, they talked over the phone, he’d even re-opened an old account on an online fantasy game to spend time with her, but even with all of this effort there were days, sometimes weeks, at a time when she would simply disappear. Whether these Frankie blackouts were caused by travel or serious Net immersion Reynard didn’t know, but he did know he’d been running scared that he wouldn’t hear from her again every time she disappeared. 
He walked toward her door, raising his fist to knock, making sure one last time that he had the right apartment. And then there’s Anlek, he thought. He doesn’t deserve to be a third wheel.
Reynard knocked, then waited. Nothing happened. He ran his fingers nervously through his hair, realizing that if she was even there she would probably be running Fourth Plane, or at least listening to music loud enough to drown out the physical world. To his surprise, the door opened almost immediately. He nearly dropped the flowers when he saw that it was a man answering the door, but regained his composure when he noticed it was an older man with a lethargic droop to his face, leaning heavily against the door frame.
“Can I help you?” the man asked, a suspicious glare on his face. 
Reynard paused for a moment, gaping, then held out his hand. “Oh, yeah, hi, you must be Frankie’s mentor, Joshua Macomb, isn’t it?” 
The man smiled, but the smile was a little patronizing. “I guess if you know about me that narrows the possibilities of who you could be. Since you don’t look like an Aztec hitman, then I’m guessing you must be from the Net.”
Reynard tried to hold his smile, but he had a feeling it came off looking more like a grimace of pain. “Well, I’m not really from the Net. I go there, but I’m really from . . . Anyway, my name is Reynard, Frankie’s boyf--uh, friend.” I sincerely wish I were dead right now, Reynard thought as the older man clapped him on the back.
“Pleased to meet you, Reynard, I’ve heard a lot about you. Sorry I didn’t recognize you.” The man stepped aside, letting the door swing open. “Frankie was a little distracted, I’d better let her know you’re here, and then, ah, I was on my way out anyhow, all right?” Reynard nodded his head. As the door swung shut, his eyes glanced across a spare room with a hardwood floor. On the other side of the room, Frankie sat in the floor, oblivious to the world around her, dressed in nothing more than a white t-shirt and black shorts and sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her computer. She was sitting hunched forward, the small of her back uncovered, and while he couldn’t see any detail, Reynard was surprised, and more than a little intrigued, to see that there was an enormous round tattoo covering the entire lower half of her back.
The door clicked shut, and Reynard leaned up against the opposite wall for a few minutes before the back of Macomb’s head appeared, blocking the open door. “Be good Frankie,” he said, “I’ll see you next week.” Reynard couldn’t hear the reply, but he could tell it was a defensive response. Macomb chuckled, then turned to Reynard and said, “She’s all yours, son.”
Suddenly, Frankie filled the doorway, and Reynard barely had time to smile before he was wrapped up in an enthusiastic hug. It was the first time he’d been this close to her that wasn’t an accident. He had to fight the idiotic urge to make a crack about how comfortable it was to hug someone with her measurements, but to his surprise he didn’t have to bite his tongue too hard. It dawned on him that it might be the first hug he’d gotten since his orphanage had been raided by slavers, but it didn’t make him sad to think that it was probably the best. He realized, too, that she hadn’t put in her bow--the canny piece of technology that changed her appearance in any number of ways--meaning she must have listened to him when he told her what he thought of it. Her wild blonde hair was obscuring his vision. The blue couture dress she wore was freshly pressed and expensive, but she smelled like three days of sweat and salty snacks with a flimsy spritz or two of something that smelled like orange blossoms over it. It was really the best smell he could think of.
Frankie pulled back. “Reynard!” she screamed, pulling him into the room and shutting the door. “What the hell are you doing on Isis? And why didn’t you call me?” 
Reynard smiled a lopsided grin, his cheeks flushing a little. “Well, I’m here on business, but I wanted to surprise you. I hope it’s all right.”
Frankie smiled, her eyes growing distant for a moment before snapping back into focus. “No, it’s great. Come on in and I’ll get ready, we can go out someplace.”
“Sure,” Reynard said. “Maybe someplace Mafia-friendly?”
Frankie gave him a puzzled look. “Apparently we have a lot to catch up on.”




Anlek sat at a dive bar on the edge of a dark town, quietly watching the races, silently criticizing the barkeep’s technique. A couple of hours later, he wandered drunkenly down the small side road, headed for he and Reynard’s hotel. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the black floatcar following him down the street, nor did he notice when it quietly parked less than a block away from their hotel, watching him stumble into the lobby.

Contractual Obligations: Part One

The following is the first part of an insane experiment to write tie-in stories to my VOID campaign setting; as I've mentioned I'm planning on running VOID: The Movie at some point, so I wanted to throw a few thousand words out there to set the stage for the events. Plus, I really enjoy writing about Anlek and Reynard. They just didn't get enough airtime on the show :) Hope you enjoy what follows, I'll try to post regularly and to entertain you electronically.

Warning: Some names may be stolen from Baccano! I got lazy that one time.

Contractual Obligations

Part One

“You know, I’m really starting to get too old for these insane schemes of yours, Reynard.”

The man leaning up against the doorjamb of the hotel suite’s balcony turned with a start, a worried expression on his face. His lanky blonde hair reached down to the collar of his ill-fitting silk shirt, and he twirled a cigarette nervously between his fingers.

“No, jackass, not old enough to turn into a giant dragonfly and eat you. There’s a chrysalis and months of time involved. I’ve told you . . . “ The words trailed off into muffled grumbling. The voice itself, while speaking Terran fluently, came out in a strange buzz. 

Reynard shook his head. “I don’t care how many times you tell me Anlek, I’m not going to get used to living with a bug”. Anlek was an Eckoli, a race of bipedal insect that often traded with the New Terran system. Reynard had been his partner since he was a teenager, and before fortune had its way repeatedly with Anlek, his slave. Reynard had met his fair share of Eckoli, but none who were so willing to mix with human culture. He’d never really understood why Anlek was so eager to stay with Reynard, or why he’d remained his partner. For all his constant grumbling, the Eckoli never made mention of leaving. Reynard had always assumed that for one reason or another his partner had nothing to go back to, but it was an unspoken rule between them that neither of them talked about their history before the day, not long after Reynard’s seventh birthday, that Anlek purchased him from a Medved slave trader. 

        Reynard stepped out onto the balcony, and Anlek shoved his way through the narrow door onto the platform. The Eckoli weren’t a particularly pretty race by human standards, and it had taken two centuries of relations to take them out of nightmares and into familiarity. Anlek sported four arms, two with manipulating phalanges and two smaller arms with large, club-like claws. His body was plated in a grey-green color, and his mandibles were offset by a small, incongruous-looking device wedged between his head and thorax that provided him with the ability to reproduce human speech.

The balcony looked out over the skyline of New Arcadia, capital city of Isis, a moon known as much for its corruption and mob connections as for its casinos and amusement parks. Anlek chuckled under his breath as Reynard clumsily attempted to hold and light the cigarette in his hand, but in a matter of minutes he let out a little ‘ha’ of triumph. He pulled the cigarette up to his mouth and prepared to take a drag of it as he leaned out over the balcony’s edge. Anlek exploded into laughter as he lurched sideways in a fit of hacking and coughing. The cigarette went whirling out of Reynard’s hand, leaving a trail of cinders as it fell to the street, 60 stories below. 

Anlek slapped Reynard on the back, hard, with one of his smaller arms. “Face it Reynard, you might as well give up looking cool.” Reynard’s coughing fit eventually tapered off into a deep sigh.

“I know, I’m just sick of being ‘Reynard the unrefined geek’”, he said, pulling another cigarette out of its case.

“Cheer up buddy,” Anlek said slyly, “sometimes you’re Reynard the unsuccessful womanizer, or Reynard the guy who talks about shit no one understands. Hell, on good days you might even become Reynard the greedy criminal businessman.”

Reynard glared at his partner for a moment, then began laughing softly to himself. “Yeah, let’s hope today is a good day. If we can land this job with Luciano, we’ll be rollin’ in negotiable currency. If we make a really nice profit we might be able to take the considerable financial risk of letting you open up a bar.”

Anlek hissed inhumanly. “Ouch,” he said, remembering his most recent establishment, a little hole-in-the wall on the rainy moon of Anu that he’d been forced to abandon under a particularly unpleasant political climate. Anlek had a bad history as an entrepreneur, having lost no fewer than four establishments of varying quality during his time in the New Terra system. The loss of one on Okamu Station about a decade earlier had resulted in his partnership with the then-teenaged Reynard, who had bought his way out of his slave contract. He had made the money by designing and building illegal electronics systems which could be used to take people, warships, and anything in between off the grid of the increasingly oppressive Colonial Authority, the military organization that ruled every pocket of space, and a handful of worlds, in the system.

Maybe this will work out better than our last contract, Reynard thought to himself. Anlek and Reynard had met some limited success in the recent past by doing some work for the fledgling and very secretive Rebellion, but after a clever strike against the Colonial Authority during what should have been a glorious Bicentennial celebration for the regime, the Rebels had scattered to the four winds as the CA’s considerably navy attempted to hunt them down. Since then, they, too had been trying to keep a low profile lest they be connected to the insurgents. And now we’re working for the mafia, Anlek thought, chuckling. That’s about as high profile as they come.

Reynard peered down into the faraway street, watching as a particularly classy floatcar pulled into the hotel’s roundabout, slamming to a stop and ejecting a figure that, despite its ant-like size from this height, gave off an air of contemptuous femininity. “I think that might be our contact. Mr. Luciano said this Elise drives like a demon and dresses like a whore.”

Anlek laughed. “He also said to keep that last bit to ourselves.”

Reynard shook his head. “What little faith he has in us social cripples to be discrete. Yep, that’s definitely her. Guess we’d better head down. Luciano’s expecting us at his office in less than an hour, after all. Figure if she drives like that we’d better not take any longer than forty-five minutes to make our way to the lobby.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait for the ride,” Anlek replied, turning to one of the large synthetic feather beds sitting in the middle of the room to pick up a long, black bag, grunting slightly with the effort as he slung it across his chitinous shoulders. 

Reynard raised an eyebrow at his partner. “Do you really think you need to be lugging that thing around?” Reynard, and a number of bar patrons across the system, knew that Anlek carried with him, whenever possible, an enormous gamma gun, a weapon capable of firing concentrated cosmic rays at its unfortunate victim, scrambling their cell replication and, with a direct hit, even their genetic code. Only Reynard knew, however, that the gun had never been fired--either way, it was a powerful intimidation device, and a large investment for his Eckoli partner even during the salad days of Anlek’s most successful establishment. 

“Yes, I do. Luciano seems like a nice guy, but this is the mafia we’re dealing with here, son. And we’re not the two brightest bulbs when it comes to parley, either. I’m bringing this with me as a bargaining chip and a potential means of escape.”

Reynard nodded. “Good point,” he said, reaching over to the drawer of the bedside table to retrieve his small laser pistol and wedge it into the waistband of his pants. Grabbing his electronics kit, an oversized black briefcase chock full of contraband, from the floor with a grunt, he turned to Anlek. “Let’s go.”

When the two arrived in the hotel’s opulent lobby, Reynard immediately spotted their contact. Elise lounged against the marble counter near the lobby’s entrance, sporting a gold top, a denim jacket, unnecessarily tight jeans, and a bored, vaguely irritated expression. She twirled a cigarette between two of her fingers, earning a sidelong glare from the nearest desk clerk. Anlek gestured toward her. “See, that’s how you look cool,” he whispered to Reynard.

Reynard snorted. “That’s how you look like you belong on a dark town billboard,” he retorted quietly. The two approached Elise, and Reynard set shuffled his briefcase to his left hand, holding his right out toward Elise. The woman lowered her sunglasses, pointedly ignoring Reynard’s offered hand. “You two must be the ones Luciano wants me to cart around.” She turned to head for the door. “He didn’t tell me I was going out after a pair of chumps,” she said, lighting up as she pushed the doors open, the front desk clerk’s objections dying on her lips.

Reynard was still standing with his hand extended, mouth agape. Anlek chuckled nervously. “I think for once I can’t blame her attitude on a poor first impression, Reynard.”

Reynard stared after her for a moment, then suddenly turned a glare on his partner. “Wait, what the hell do you know about being cool? You’re not even human.”

The Eckoli shrugged four shoulders. “It’s a universal thing, buddy. Let’s go after her before she decides to leave without us.”

Contractual Obligations

Part Two

The car ride to Luciano’s office was awkward, naturally, but in the end Anlek was just happy it was in a convertible. He had more than a little trouble fitting into the coffins these humans called floatcars, and was more than happy to dangle several appendages and half a gamma gun precariously out into traffic if it meant he could avoid another carapace fracture. Despite what Reynard had said, that tram ride up to Black Star Mountain on New Earth had not been fun, and there wasn’t a doctor this side of the Colony Ship that knew much about treating the Eckoli carapace. And if he’d gone to the Colony Ship, he’d just as likely have ended up in a tank for research. It wasn’t really their fault--the Eckoli hadn’t run into many races out there in the galaxy who hadn’t taken one look at them and thought “Damn, that’s some nice DNA you have there! A splice here, a splice there, and we’ve got ourselves an army of super soldiers!” And to date, the Tholetans had been the only ones to get any kind of success out of it. Carapaces were, as a general rule, a pain in the ass, but sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way--with billions of credits down the drain and a few hundred volunteer soldiers insane and covered in plates of painful armor. Ah, military research.
Anlek tore his eyes off the sights of New Arcadia’s dark side and spared a glance for his partner and their rather undignified chauffer. Reynard kept leaning forward, looking motion sick, and every time he did the wind would gust just right to send a handful of red-died hair right into his eyes. He gave Anlek a long-suffering glance as another hard rock tune blared over the floatcar’s radio. Reynard was of the musical school of thought which held that any music created by a genuine instrument was somehow inferior. Anlek liked Eckoli music . . . But it had been so many years since he’d heard any, he could hardly remember the sound.
What are we even doing? he wondered. Anlek was edging past his prime, already over a hundred Terran years old, but for the last thirty he’d been stumbling along. First he’d left his clan over what seemed now such a minor dishonor, giving up the life of a star faring merchant to become an entrepreneur in this backwater system. Sure, he’d always wanted to be independent, he could mix an Arteian Skull Crusher that could sneak up on a Colossus like a ninja with a sledgehammer, and there was a certain joy to really owning something, a pleasure which was nigh impossible within the strictures of Eckoli clan life--but ever since he’d left he’d been stumbling, had even fallen flat on his face a time or two. And for the last ten years, he’d been partnered with a boy who, in better times, had been his slave.
Not that it was all bad. Reynard was as good a friend as any, and he definitely kept life interesting. When he didn’t manage to attract disreputable girls with the illusion that he had a lot of money--not that it was always an illusion--Reynard had always been just as unmoored as Anlek. They had each other. Of course, now Reynard had met an actual female, someone he actually wanted to impress, and presumably to stay with for more than a week or two. Anlek wasn’t sure how to feel, he knew he felt a certain fatherly pride for Reynard actually achieving some form of social success, but  . . . In the long run, where might that leave him? Better not to worry too much about it, the Eckoli thought, staring out toward the approaching twilight that marked the Nightside edge. Below the highway, hotels, casinos, parks, and even a floatcar racing track sprawled out, the hover cars mocking the bumper to bumper traffic above, pushing along at top speed. This is such a hectic place, Anlek thought, shaking his head--a habit he’d picked up from too much time around humans. As much fun as the place was, he didn’t particularly want to live here. Hopefully Reynard’s upcoming deal with the Mafia wouldn’t require relocation. He liked Thoth, despite all the labor unrest . . . And the downright unnecessary number of cops.
Anlek was jarred from his reverie when a well-manicured hand appeared in front of him on the back of the unoccupied front passenger’s seat. Elise, still driving in dense traffic, half-turned to look at the two of them over the rim of her sunglasses. “So, Luciano told me to pick you two up, but he didn’t say what you were here for. Must be something technical, considering how nerdy you look.”
Reynard grimaced, unconsciously folding his scrawny arms over his chest. “Yeah, technical is right. We’re here to show Mr. Luciano what we can do with a little electronics suite I put together. It’s not entirely legal, but it worked just fine for a little ship called the Wayfarer, from what I understand.”
Elise’s eyebrows raised. “I wasn’t aware you were affiliated with that particular group. I understand their resident hacker still lives here. Luci lured her out of her geek cave a few weeks ago for a drink.”
Elise did not miss the look that leapt onto Reynard’s face, and let out a throat laugh. “Oh, so you do know her. Well don’t worry, the old man’s interest in her is purely business. Seems they share a grudge against the Aztecs.”
Anlek was surprised. What could Mendoza’s thugs have done to piss off a kid that young? 
Elise finally turned around, paying attention to the road long enough to pass three cars in the outside lane. Anlek heard a rush of air and realized Reynard had been holding his breath the entire time she had been leaning over the seat. For all of the kid’s customary recklessness, nobody could remain calm through driving like that.


A few minutes and a few near misses later, Elise exited the highway and made her way across a business district, pulling around the back of a tall building bedecked with the kind of business names that just screamed “front for organized crime”. A short trip across an empty lobby and a much longer trip up an elevator intended for a  smaller number of giant larvae, and the three of them arrived outside a corner office suite. Elise rapped on the door, and a moment later an aging man with short, thinning hair, an impressive nose, and an equally impressively tacky shirt, complete with a tropical design, answered. 
“Hey Luci,” Elise began, slipping past the older man into the room, “you know you have business to do today, right?”
Luciano laughed. “Hell no, there’s no business today! Just a couple of old friends visiting from Thoth, right? Come on in and have a seat, boys, you must be tired after your long trip.” The older man gave Elise, already sprawled across a love seat on the far wall, a sidelong glance, a look of nervousness in his eyes that could only mean he’d experienced the terror of being a passenger in her car. 
    The office seemed sparse, and barely used, but it was nicely furnished, and sported a view that looked onto the logos of several famous hotels and casinos. Luciano indicated a corner where they could store their things, his expression turning puzzled and a little concerned at Anlek’s quiet determination to keep his gamma gun with him. Finally he conducted them over to his desk. Elise was sending phone messages over the second-tier Net, and seemed fairly oblivious to their activity. Suddenly, she snapped her sunglasses out of her pocket and stood up. 
“It’s been fun Luci, but I’ve got to run. Looks like I’ve got some freelance action planned for the afternoon.” She flashed Luciano a mocking grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not working for Mendoza.”
Luciano scowled. “Elise, you know I don’t care who else you work for. Just keep your nose clean and don’t forget we have an appointment at 3 tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Luci,” she said, swinging the door shut.
Luciano waved Anlek and Reynard over to his desk, where they took a seat. “She’s a damned good courier and a great informant, but I’m always a little relieved when she finds something else to do.” Neither Anlek or his partner knew what to say to that, though Reynard did crack a nervous smile.
Padding across the room in sandals and chinos, Luciano sat down in his chair, pushing what appeared to be an entirely artificial stack of papers off to the side. He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “All right boys, I hear you have something interesting to show me,” he said, smiling. “Let’s get down to business.”


Listening to the two of them haggle is giving me a headache, Reynard thought to himself. Anlek and Luciano had been hashing out the details of a sale for what felt like hours. The two of them had a good setup for their sales pitch, though Reynard would admit himself that he had gotten greedy and destroyed their premise a time or two. Reynard would open up with a short demonstration, opening his briefcase like a down-on-his-luck salesman and using a small scanner and a small but powerful jammer he had created to recreate the effects his devices had on law enforcement electronics. He would play dumb when it came time to make the sale, and Anlek, who would have stayed silent the whole time, would jump in and take over. Without the customary Eckoli merchants’ robes, no one would suspect him of being a professional haggler. 
Luciano leaned back in his seat, doing his best to look relaxed and unconcerned with the dealings, his hand propped on the back of his chair, his occasional gesturing flashing light off of his gold watch like Morse code. “We can do five thousand per ship at the most,” he said, the smile on his face clashing with the calculating look in his eyes. “We can make an initial commitment of ten vessels of varying sizes. We’d like to see a . . . let’s say sixty day rollout time.”
Anlek was taking the opposite pose--standing up, waving his four arms expressively, giving the Mafioso the impression that he was every bit in control. “Mr. Luciano,” he said pleadingly, “My associate can hardly mass-produce these electronic suites. Each one has to be tailor-made to the ship it’s protecting. As I’ve said, ten thousand per ship will give us only a modest profit in order to continue our experimenting and cover our travel costs, not to mention the steep price of the raw goods Mr. Reynard is utilizing. With ten different types of vessels and handling our own transportation, we could say a 100-day rollout at the fastest. One other issue, if I may bring it up, is exclusivity--we will need a non-competitive clause on any deal we make to insure that my associate’s work is not duplicated in any way, and that we continue to be the sole providers of this product.”
Luciano actually paused for a moment. Reynard felt that he could almost hear the numbers rolling around in his head, comparing their rates to Imperial tariffs and the price of confiscations, not to mention the edge it would give their out system anti-pirate fleet. Finally, he spoke up, leaning forward on his desk. “Mr. Anlek, there is no doubt that we can agree on this non-compete clause you’re referring to. If we can sell it, anyone can sell it, and before we know it, we will no longer have the edge. On a similar note, and while I know you’ve done outside business in the past to some degree of success, I would like for you to guarantee to the Mafia that you will not sell this technology to any other individual or organization while you are doing business with us.” Luciano paused again, and Anlek seemed to be holding his breath. “Given the . . . Effect that could have on your potential profits, I will give a standing offer of 8,000 per unit installed, and in order to speed the process, I believe we can give you only, say, three different types of vessel to work with. In addition, consider your transportation covered, and please accept our welcome to buy as many of your raw goods as possible through Mafia channels.” The aging man leaned back again, his tanned face creasing along laugh lines.
Anlek paused for a moment, then held out one of his manipulating appendages. “Mr. Luciano, I believe we have a deal.” He shook Luciano’s hand, and the man rose from his desk. “Where would you like us to start?”
Luciano smiled, thumbing the console of a holoprojector mounted near the edge of his desk. “Well, as a matter of fact, I have something very special planned.” A hologram sprang to life over the polished oak face of his desk, showing a spinning model of one of the Mafia’s most iconic commercial airships, the Firenza. 
Reynard’s eyes lit up, and a smile crept across his face. “Mr. Luciano--”
Luciano smiled. “Just call me Luciano. I thought you might like the opportunity to give a demonstration to the Don. And what better canvas for your art than the jewel of our commercial fleet, eh?” Luciano smiled, then thumbed the projector off. “I expect you’ll want to get to work on it right away. We’ll have you do a simple, low-power jammer--something to throw our adversaries off without alerting them that something’s going on. As long as we’re under the agreement that we want much more powerful units for our starships.”
Reynard reached out and shook Luciano’s hand. “Let me gather some materials and I’ll be there at dawn. I think I can have it put together by, say, the following noon?”
Anlek piped up. “Assuming, that is, that he’s provided with meals and snacks to suit his needs.”
Luciano shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Just ask for Ennis when you get on the ship, she’ll be your attaché while you work. Deal?”
Reynard smiled, Anlek trilled quietly in an Eckoli show of appreciation. “Deal,” they both intoned.