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.”