Rift Breaker (6 page)

Milton hurried through, taking a path between a loading walker and its cargo; the driver stopped and yelled something. Milton stepped over a crate and hung left to avoid a low-hanging
crane, then stopped. A small loader towed two towering wryhaidon cages across his path. The first beast whipped its long neck and snorted, clicking on the cage base with hairy, fork-toed feet.

Milton had worked with wryhaidon back home. They were built tough and their only natural predators were subterranean. Once the wryhaidon were riled, it was difficult to calm them. Tantrums were one of their favourite pleasures. Milton waited the extra spuckons for the second caged beast to pass.

He sighted Tazman disappearing through a vehicle entrance. Milton pressed through the rest of the crowd and stepped outside into the cool air. A whistle pulled his attention. He scanned to find Tazman further up the path. Milton jogged to catch up.

‘This is crazy! Not a good idea,' said Milton.

Tazman's eyes, the size of planets, darted about the surroundings, avoiding Milton. ‘We didn't have a choice,' he replied.

Overhead lanterns shone down onto the glistening wet pavement. Buildings towered over the path on either side, connected by distant foot bridges. Hover vehicles, all with their own individual sounds, shot overhead, sending an updraft through the street crevice with every pass.

A grounded hover vehicle started nearby. Music of some kind blared from its interior. Its rounded metal surfaces were vibrant chrome and purple and its rear and lower sides were mounted with enormous platinum turbines. The creatures inside hung
their limbs out the windows and looked out onto the walkpath. The one in the front peeled back his lips, revealing a set of sharp teeth. He revved the engine to a deafening roar and his passengers chattered excitedly. The vehicle lifted off and shot into the sky, cutting aggressively into the traffic line above.

‘Probably trying to make up for something,' Tazman smiled. ‘What do you say we engage in a little recreation?' He pointed to a sign and set off briskly.

‘With what?' asked Milton, starting after him. ‘We have no money remember?'

Tazman produced a full-looking pouch and shook it, forcing the jangling sound of coinage.

‘We could have paid that pilot who rescued us,' Milton said.

Tazman pocketed the pouch and followed in the direction of a thumping beat.

‘We don't owe her a thing, Milton. What kind of person charges someone for being rescued from a life-threatening situation? Scum like her deserve nothing.' His tail curled up and wagged in Milton's face. ‘You see? Tail agrees.'

They stopped at the source of the music, an extravagant building with transparent sections revealing crowds of drunken partygoers. Two cat-like creatures, twice the size of Tazman, stood tall at the entrance. They had matching sharp-edged suits and black stripes down the back of their orange and white furry heads. Tazman took a step in their direction and the one on the right let out a deep threatening purr, exposing the tip of its fang.

Tazman smiled and flashed a handful of gold tokens. The cats exchanged a quick glance and Tazman flipped one to each. They caught them with swiping claws and the one on the left motioned the ecstatic simian in with a flick of its whisker.

Milton stood frozen. He peered into the entrance. Inside, a crowd danced under colourful lights and laser beams. Tazman popped out again and gripped Milton's upper arm.

‘It's okay, he's with me,' he said, yanking him through the entrance.

The scene was overwhelming for the Human from Stoneia. Right away, he wanted to leave. Thick smoke clouded the air. He found himself squashed in a tightly packed crowd. Tazman made his way forward, tossing his head to the beat. He got the attention of a passing waitress and exchanged a silver token for a beverage of neon-blue liquid, then drowned himself in it.

Milton made his way towards the ridiculous Freegu. People moved all around him and he was touched from all sides. He brushed off a webbed hand that had wrapped itself around his shoulder and nervously walked faster. A high-pitched drunken scream whined beside him. He winced and covered his ear.

He found the edge of the crowd and caught Tazman sitting at the bar. Milton slid in next to him. ‘I don't like this place,' he yelled.

Tazman scanned the room for a moment then smiled and blew a kiss at someone on the dance floor. ‘Yeah, it's great, isn't it?' he yelled back.

A barmaid with three big blue eyes approached. Tazman ordered something with a description so long and complicated Milton couldn't repeat it even if he knew what it was. The barmaid turned to Milton and blinked with whipping eyelashes.

‘Nothing for me, thank you,' he said politely.

‘Get two of those,' said Tazman, who was already talking with the attractive lady sitting next to him. He whispered in her ear and she laughed, squeezing his shoulder. The barmaid came back with the order. Tazman took a swig and set it down.

‘How often do you go to places like this?' Milton asked.

‘Whenever I can,' Tazman replied. ‘Hey drink up,' he added, sliding a glass of foamy liquid under Milton's nose.

‘It's hardly the time to celebrate. We have to figure out what we're going to do.'

‘Don't worry, things will work out. They always do. You don't need to plan anything really.'

‘I wish I had your outlook,' said Milton. But Tazman didn't hear him. He had started flirting again.

A serpent, the size of Milton's arm, flexed its body against a pole on a bench behind the bar. Its head moved towards the barmaid almost every time she passed. When she stopped to pour another drink, she scratched the snake under its neck with a glossy fingernail. Several sets of frills waved down the critter's skin. After she left, the snake lowered its gaze to Milton, locking its vertical irises in a stare. Its eyes faded from orange to red.

Milton took a sip from the frosted glass and tasted an intense bitterness that stuck in his throat. He found swallowing difficult. In the time it took him to finish, Tazman had done three more blue shots with his new lady friend.

After a while a shout thundered drunkenly over the music. ‘Hey Freegu! You're in my seat.' Milton spun to see a skinny pale yellow creature dressed in baggy pants, leaning forward as it swayed towards them.

Tazman turned to Milton, gulping down his drink with a raised eyebrow. ‘Now, my good friend, I will give you a practical example on how to deal with conflict,' he said.

The yellow guy puffed up his chest. Bony red lumps, like sawn off spikes, protruded from his head and continued in a line down his back.

‘Get off,' he screamed with a rolling unfocused gaze. The crowd backed away, forming a circle to view the floorshow. This, Milton thought, was more of the scene he was used to.

Tazman stood and picked up his barstool. The drunk guy tensed but Tazman raised a hand to calm him. ‘Relax,' the simian said. He held the stool up by its legs and pretended to examine it closely. ‘Hmmm, here's where we have a problem,' he announced. Turning the stool, he looked at the underside and scrunched up his face. ‘Your name's not on it!'

The guy widened his veiny eyes, twitching his head to the side. His lumps began to protrude. Tazman wasn't one to notice.

‘Why haven't you put your name on it?' he yelled, waving his
hands for emphasis. ‘You do know how to spell your own name … don't you?'

‘Watch your mouth, Freegu,' it yelled.

‘Well I'm sorry. I think it's pretty stupid to put your seat in a crowded bar without expecting anyone to sit in it. If it had your name on it I wouldn't have sat there unless …' Tazman's eyes opened wide. He covered his mouth with his hand. ‘Oh my goodness, I'm sorry I didn't realise,' he said.

The yellow guy half smiled at Tazman's new lady friend with a conceited sense of victory.

Tazman took his hand away, blurting, ‘You're illiterate!'

The guy's smirk dropped and his jaw tightened.

‘I apologise for any offence taken,' Tazman added with a tone of diplomacy. ‘Come back when you can spell,' he finished with a cheeky grin.

The guy inhaled, his chest expanded unnaturally. His muscles twitched over his skinny frame.

Tazman turned back to Milton.

‘You see, Milton, that's how simple it is. When someone demands something that's rightfully yours, you simply refuse. They may argue this and that …'

As Tazman lectured, the yellow guy's torso began to inflate. Bones crunched and clicked under his skin.

‘Are you paying attention?' said Tazman.

Milton pointed. Tazman spun towards the guy. His skin had changed to a fiery orange and he'd doubled in size. The lumps
down his back had grown into sharp hooked thorns. His jaw had extended to form a carnivorous snout. A long strand of drool oozed from between his thin, pointed teeth, almost touching the floor. He flexed his muscular chest and exhaled stinking breath. When he clenched his fists, bony mounds sprouted from the skin of his knuckles. The creature stepped forward, stealing any floor space Tazman had left.

‘Hmmm … Okay …' Tazman said, standing and backing up to the bar. ‘Have the seat.'

He thrust the barstool hard into Thorny's stomach. Thorny grunted and reached down with both hands. Tazman ducked under the slow-moving arms and jumped back. He reverse-rolled onto the bar, spilling drinks and aggravating the barmaid who started yelling at him.

Tazman sprang up with outstretched arms. ‘Ta da,' he cried. His tail brought his last shot glass to his mouth. He swallowed its contents before flicking the glass behind him. The snake opened every frill and hissed with two sharp, watering fangs.

Thorny screamed and advanced with open hands. Tazman bounded across the bar, knocking over more drinks as he failed to hop over the hands that held them. Unable to stop giggling, Tazman ignored the curses of the other patrons below, one yelling especially loud and pulling a handful of beverages away before he passed, only to have them knocked apart by his erratic tail. Tazman's shin hit an arm and a handful of tokens spilled out across the bar. When he ran out of countertop he leapt onto a
table, causing another angry uproar with people pushing away and standing as spilt liquid washed onto their laps.

Thorny turned and barged his way through the masses. Most of them, the lucky ones, got out of his way. Milton stood up on the foot bar of his stool and spotted Tazman leaping from table to table, circling towards the club entrance. The simian leapt high and swung off a lighting rack, landing out of view.

Milton was bewildered at how little time it took for Tazman to cause a commotion. He stepped down and pushed through the dance floor, squeezing between sweaty bodies, looking for his crewmate over the top of the crowd. Thorny, however, could not be missed. The beast pushed and dragged others from his path, sweeping his crazy-eyed gaze across the room. Milton walled the side of his face with his hand and crossed to the exit.

Tazman squeezed out of the party and they quickly left the establishment. The simian burst out laughing as they passed the cat bouncers and merged with the crowded pavement.

Six

Fleet Commander Magnus Leroy stood on the
Alkaxell
's bridge as the ship hovered on the outskirts of Lubric's orbital traffic zone. The
Alkaxell
was relatively new to the Composite arsenal and its military features made it stand out among the docked recreational vessels. Its eyecatching design incorporated situating its major weaponary at the front. Its long elegant body was flat and curved down at the sides, creating a floorless tunnel where deployed fighters could accelerate to attack speeds with minimal exposure.

Mere harghs ago
Orisurrection
had been found obliterated; its particles smeared across the outer rim. No life was spared. Now justice was all that mattered. And it would whip forth like an unstoppable star flare, delivered by the cold hand of Fleet Commander Magnus Leroy, one of the first Humans to obtain the rank.

He looked down on the pleasure cruisers. If he had the time he would have his troops search each and every one. There was no telling what kind of substances or stolen goods were being smuggled to and from the planet. Lubrician border control was lenient at best.

His loyal crew, hand selected, had orders to prep themselves for every possible outcome. Leroy had found friendly fire an increasing issue in recent missions. Some of the so-called ‘allies' had mistaken the
Alkaxell
for an enemy vessel. The cost of the misunderstandings, however, was theirs to pay, which was why everyone had to be careful. Of course, sometimes the misunderstanding came from the other end, but who was keeping score anyway? Collateral damage was a normal part of conflict. The important thing was that both Leroy and his crew stayed safe. The incidents also proved Leroy's point: the more firepower you have, the safer you'll be.

When Raegar had called in the
Orisurrection
report, Leroy was surprised the old man was still functional. The art of the ancient battles during Raegar's time was nothing compared to facing the outbreak of villainy today. The fact that Raegar had remained a household name in a galaxy of new threats perplexed Leroy. But it didn't matter. Leroy himself would soon be recognised in the same light, if not one far brighter. The overseers would be proud that he'd taken the initiative to swiftly track down and apprehend those responsible for the
Orisurrection
incident. There was no hiding now that Leroy was on the case.

That he would gain a promotion from this made perfect sense. Decisiveness and strong focus had given him exceptional results at the academy. Know-nothing critics had questioned his methods as wasteful but they couldn't argue with success. A promotion would increase the units under his control and then he could continue to tighten his grip on the Tyde.

Once he had the suspects he would get answers. He didn't care how much torture it would take to break them, he would find his way to the core of their little syndicate. After his crushing blow, Tyde crime lords across the galaxy would shudder at the mention of his name.