#carmen shift

“Carmen Shift, please move to the far end of the hallway.”

Carmen sat up and looked around, trying to identify the source of the voice.  It was a woman’s voice, soft and lilting.  Xorn’Tal and Vince were also making themselves comfortable at the door to the bridge, and neither looked like they were speaking.  Carmen opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t.  They didn’t hear me.”

“Hmm?”

“Only you can hear me, Carmen Shift.  Please move to the far end of the hallway.  I must speak with you, and you would do well to not appear to be speaking to yourself.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow but stood.  Xorn’Tal seemed to not care, and Vince merely nodded in recognition of the fact that she was moving.  A lethargy had settled upon the racers after their failure to find a quick solution to the problem of the door.  Carmen walked passed the window that revealed their proximity to Mandrake.  She passed a maintenance hatch, a lavatory, and a supply closet before she neared the door to the kitchen.

“That’s far enough,” said the voice.

“Great,” said Carmen, quietly.  “So, what’s your mondo mysterioso angle here?”

“Carmen,” said the voice, changing dramatically to a masculine, sonorous tenor.  “It is I, the Soul Survivor!”

“Figures,” she said.  “I don’t need this.  Later.”

“Wait,” said the Soul Survivor.  “Don’t leave.  I’m going to release you?”

“Great,” said Carmen.  “What’s the catch?”

“No catch, apart from my difficulty in locating a suitable drop point for you.  The Dyson Empire’s forces have locked down most safe ports and entrances to the system, and I’d rather not take you so far away just to release you.  There is a mostly unharassed fueling station at the far reaches of the system, though.  I could fly out of my way and leave you there.”

“Seriously?  Huh.  That’s surprising.  Well… thanks.  I’ll tell the guys.”

“Do you believe that’s wise?”

“To tell ‘em we’ll be out of this tin can soon?  Seems smart to me.”

“Ah.  I… have communicated this poorly.”

“Communicated what?”

“Miss Shift, I intend to release you.  The other two will stay as my prisoners until I can finally contact someone within your racing federation to pay for them.  I believe I may yet profit from this venture.”

“Hey now, you said now catches.”

“This isn’t a catch.  You go free, no strings attached.  Your friends, though… they must endure here.”

“You really can’t see why that’s a catch?”

“We are debating semantics.”

“No, I’m debating you.  You think I’d just leave them?”

“Carmen, you okay?” called Vince from the opposite end of the hall.

“Tan: escaped?” called Xorn’Tal’s translator.

“Your voice carried farther than hoped,” said the Soul Survivor.

“Yeah, it does that when I’m mad,” she said.  “No, I’m fine you two.  Hey, listen-”

“Carmen-”

“Shut up,” said Carmen, walking back.  “The Soul Survivor’s talking to me.  Only I can hear it because of… I don’t know, something dumb.”

“I’m bouncing the sound waves so that they only grow audible in your immediate-”

“I said shut up.  Basically, the brains of this operation wants to kick me off the ship at some fueling station while leaving you here until he gets his ransom payment.”

“Nice,” said Vince.  “Lucky you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going unless we’re all going.”

“Really?” said Vince, rising to his feet.  “Carmen, I think if we can get one of us off this ship, it’s a chance worth taking.”

“I think it’s stupid to split the group like that,” said Carmen.  “Thanks for voting to get me out of here, but with all three of us we’ve got a better chance of taking advantage of any surprises the Soul Survivor throws our way.”

“Surprises: Unlikely,” said Xorn’Tal.  “Alternative thought: point: valid.”

“Let’s take out the pilot,” whispered Carmen.

Vince looked over his shoulder.  Tan was retrieving water from the hydromill, and had generally been keeping to himself since the three racers had entered the galley.  Vince turned back and leaned forward over the table.

“Why?” he said.

“He’ll help the Soul Survivor.”

Xorn’Tal ruffled in agreement, not trusting his translator’s audio to be silent enough to contribute to the conversation without being overheard.

“Will it help us, though?”

“Why wouldn’t it help us?”

“He’s not the real problem, and the real problem will notice that we’re getting violent, and given how the fight in space went I’m guessing that he’s already going to be looking out for us acting up.  I don’t know if the element of surprise will help us or not but I’d rather not throw it away without an actual follow up plan.”

“Here’s the plan: stuff him in the refrigerator and then break our way out of this room.”

“Do you really think-”

“Tan: Welcome!” said Xorn’Tal, noisily interrupting the conspirators.

“Thanks,” said Tan, sitting down with his chilled glass of water.  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting sick of this synthesized hydromill water.”

“Objection,” said Xorn’Tal.  “Hydromill water: pure.”

“Do you have taste buds?” asked Tan, setting the glass onto the table.  “Or at least any taste buds when you get water?”

“Negative.”

“That’s why, then,” said Tan.  “All the impurities, the minerals, the unhealthy detritus that slowly poisons its drinkers, that’s where the flavor is.”

“As: cinder steel.  To: scent: zhul flowers?”

“Yeah, exactly,” said Tan.  “Human noses can’t pick up on that kind of thing.”

“Tan!” shouted the voice of the Soul Survivor.  “Report to the bridge.”

“What’s up?” said Tan.

“I need your retina to overcome this security feature.  Full control of this vessel is nearly mine, and the security measures are surprisingly intricate.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Tan stood and walked to the door as it unlocked and slid open.  Carmen jumped from her seat and ran into the thoroughly surprised pilot, pushing him into the wall.  Xorn’Tal was already shambling to the door to keep it open with a chair while Vince was running to help restrain Tan, grabbing onto the pilot’s arms and pulling them securely behind his back.

“He seems dazed,” said Vince.

“Good,” said Carmen.  “Glad to see you’re on board.”

“There weren’t many options once you decked him.  Not the best plan, but if it’s what we’re doing then we should do it right.  Refrigerator?”

“Sure,” said Carmen, helping to carry Tan to the cold storage.

“Wait,” said Tan.  “Wait… no…”

“He’s coming to!” said Vince.

“Should we hit him again?”

“Can’t that cause brain damage?”

“Sure, if you don’t do it right.”

“You can do it right?”

“Well, I’ve seen…”

“Movies?”

“Yeah,” said Carmen.  “Probably not the best place for realistic medical combat knowledge.”

Xorn’Tal loomed up to the three humans, vibrating with the emotional equivalent of a sigh.  The plant creature grabbed Tan from his fellow racers with his prehensile fronds, and looped a vine around the pilot before anyone realized what was happening.  With a creaking, inhuman cry of pain, Xorn’Tal ripped the vine out of himself, and tied the loose end with a knot.

“You can do that?” said Vince.

“Method: capture prey,” he said, opening the refrigerator door and clearing out the rations and platforms within to make room for the prisoner.  “Inefficient: sometimes necessary.”

“Are you gonna be all right?” asked Carmen.

“Vines: regenerate.”

Surshen slithered out of his tree at the changing of the guard, nodding to Maurlias as she arrived to begin her time watching.

“Are there any concerns to watch for?” she asked, preparing to climb into the tree.

“I saw three Torgan heading south instead of west,” he said.  “I will inform the hunters.”

“Wonderful.”

“I also heard a distant report, like thunder but compressed, or like the human makes at her forge to the northwest.  This was followed by smoke near the swamp.  It reminded me of the fires in the sky that herald the arrival of the aliens.”

“I will keep watch for more changes like that,” she said.  “Who will you inform of this, though?”

“It is the same issue,” he said.  “I will inform the hunters.”

***

Carmen stepped out of the airlock and almost crashed into the wall.  She rolled her eyes.

“Lousy space ships,” she said.  “Never enough room to move around on these things…”

“I apologize for the accommodations,” said the voice of The Soul Survivor.  “And it will only become more cramped as we usher your two friends in here as well.”

“Look, why’re you even interested in us?”

“It’s nothing personal,” he said.  “No ulterior motive beyond the most obvious one.  I’m rebuilding right now and while I have vast resources hidden away elsewhere, much of it is inaccessible.  Kidnapping the three greatest racers from The Corona Cup will allow for a quick influx of funds once I leave this system.”

“Wait, that’s it?” said Carmen.  “This is just about money?”

“Yes, I apologize.  I do enjoy the reputation for high crimes that I have garnered across the galaxy, but to finance every robot army, death ray, and mass hypnosis I must, alas, sully my hands with the work of the common gangster.  Napoleon’s greatest weakness and tactical failing was a belief that his supplies were limitless, and I refuse to fall for such a self-imposed ruse.”

“You think the Racing Federation will just roll over and pay you?  I hate to say it, but a lot of those suits have backgrounds as people like me.  They might’ve sold out, but they’re not pushovers.”

“Oh, I know,” said The Soul Survivor.  “I have done this many times, and I’ve learned that those who run sporting events can afford great amounts of money, but they shouldn’t be treated greedily.  You have the hotheads who’ll try to ‘handle things themselves’, the villains who write off their employed celebrities as acceptable losses, even the pragmatists who’ll contact law enforcement agencies or mercenaries.  The trick… especially with people like you, Miss Shift… is to demand payment, but a small enough amount that the risk of jeopardizing you in some way is laughable from a financial standpoint.  It really is a business, you see.  I fully expect that I’ll be able to release you and your friends shortly.  Or, at least, shortly after I leave this system.  While the Dyson Empire hasn’t disrupted my own capabilities, they have deafened the ears of anyone who might hear what I have to say from here.  If you would, please follow the hall to the left.  The galley will be a more comfortable place for you than this hallway.”

Carmen turned and walked.  The ship was designed with only a single occupant in mind, and as such the walk was a brief one.  A door slid open as she neared the end of the hall, revealing a tiny room with food and beverage dispensers, a small table, and dim lighting.  A man in a pilot’s uniform stood as Carmen entered.

“Hello!” he said.  “It’s good to mee-”

“You!” said the voice of the Soul Survivor.  Instead of hearing the voice from all around as she had been, the voice now came from a device that Carmen had assumed to be a water cooler, but when she looked at it closely she saw that it was, in fact, a partially reconstructed version of the robotic body that The Soul Survivor was known for inhabiting.  The trademark dome, filled with bubbling water, was recognizable as soon as she focused on it thanks to the countless news reports that had featured him over the years.

“Me?” said Carmen.  “Yeah, me.  Your kidnapping victim.  Who else would I be?”

“I-”

A silence filled the room.  Carmen looked at the man at the table.

“Is he always this surprised by people?”

“No,” said the man, looking worried.  “Never.  I don’t know what’s-”

“Silence,” said The Soul Survivor.  “I’m sorry.  Miss Shift, seeing things through remote cameras does not always convey the same emotional resonance as they might when seen through my active sensors.”

“What emotional resonance?” said Carmen.  “I thought this kidnapping was just business.”

“It is.  Business to which I must return, in fact.  Xorn’Tal needs to be picked up and his fronds will make this more of a challenge.  This is Tan, the captain and pilot of this vessel according to The Dyson Empire.  He’s playing the role of my Renfield for today.”

“Would you mind not calling me that?” said Tan.

“Very well,” said The Soul Survivor.  “You can’t help but see a comparison though.”

“Even so.”

“Carmen, Tan will show you how the machinery works if you require sustenance.  Much of it requires his empirical code to activate, a hard-coded mechanism that I haven’t had the time or need to modify.”

The bubbling in the jar lowered after that.  Carmen looked at Tan and nodded.

“So.  You work for Emperor Dyson and The Soul Survivor at the same time?”

“I don’t work for The Soul Survivor per se,” he said.  “But we’re friends!  I’m putting my job on the line here, but he’s in a pinch and could use some assistance.  So… yeah.  I guess you could say I’m in both of those camps right now.”

The three asteroid racers propelled their rides at the Dyson dogfighter that contained The Soul Survivor.  Carmen led the charge, shouting a battle cry worthy of the greatest sports fan, with Vince and Xorn’Tal following suit.  Carmen kept the vessel in her line of sight as long as she could to ensure that The Soul Survivor’s sensors could get a good look at her face before she had to let it drop below the horizon of her asteroid as she coasted toward it on an intercept course.  With three asteroids about to smash into it, there was no need to go for a head-on collision when it would be many degrees of magnitude more awesome to completely disable the vessel and gloat.  She braced for the impact.

“Uh, Carmen?”

“Not now, Vince!  It’s time to rip into this thing and show the Survivor not to mess with us.”

“You’re already ripping into it.  …and so is Xorn’Tal.”

“Query: vibrations?”

“I don’t know, you’re like… gliding through the ship, but there’s no impact.  Like-”

“A hologram?!” shouted The Soul Survivor, his bombastic voice interrupting their communications channel.  “You believe that I would surrender the tactical advantage of invisibility, and then simply wait in place for you to ram into my ship?  You are as tactically clever as the rocks you ride!”

“Hey, if you keep shouting into our channel I’m gonna stop going easy on you,” said Carmen, calling on the experiences from countless turf rumbles to keep her voice from cracking.  She furtively watched the sky, trying to find any trace of a cloaked ship.

“I welcome your redoubled efforts, And Fully Intend TO REDOUBLE MY OWNKSCHSHSHSHSHSHSHSREEEEEEEEEE-”

Carmen fell to her knees at the sudden squeal of an audio feedback loop, and temporarily lost control of her ride.  She ripped the headset away and threw it onto the ground while she massaged her head and closed her eyes to turn off unnecessary stimulation.  She could feel the uneasy tipping sensation of inertia creeping back in, and knew she’d have to reassert control quickly instead of just riding out the pain.

“Guys?” she said, and instantly wished she hadn’t since she knew that they couldn’t hear her without the headset.  She opened her eyes and saw the headset sitting mere yards away.  Taking a deep breath, Carmen reached out with her mind and slowed the spinning of the Kinetic Kuiper before crawling toward the device.  As she neared it, she could tell that it was still issuing the ear-splitting noise, but the pitch wasn’t audible from more than a few feet away.  She picked it up and flipped through a few channels before concluding that The Soul Survivor’s broadcast was affecting any channel she was likely to use.  With communication between the racers effectively nullified, she switched off the headset.

A sudden inertic force kicked her through the air and a green and purple glow filled the sky above her.  She willed the gravity to be stronger, and felt the pain from the feedback loop threatening to push into full migraine territory thanks to the extra exertion, and landed on the rocky surface of her ride.  She tried pushing the asteroid, but nothing happened.  She looked into the sky, half-expecting to see The Soul Survivor’s ship, but instead saw a strange arc of light, brighter than the rest of the green and purple glow, moving away from her atmosphere.

“Tractor beam,” she said to herself, reminded of the green energy field that had surrounded her car back on Helix when she and Zack had first tried leaving the ancient Super City.

Vince and Xorn’Tal zipped into view, rocketing past on their own asteroids.  They had apparently both seen the beam of light that seemingly came from nowhere and were following it to its invisible point of origin.  The vines of Xorn’Tal’s asteroid had come alive and were lashing wildly, effectively doubling the asteroid’s diameter as the titanic vegetation flirted with the hard vacuum of space.  Vince’s ship had a subtler effect, with four large, almost tear-drop shaped segments peeling off of its sides and swirling around it.  Carmen resisted the urge to mutter that juggling was for amateurs as the grasping vines and rotating rocks converged on the tractor beam’s invisible source.

The green and purple aura vanished, and Carmen again witnessed the unfiltered view of the stars and Mandrake.  Xorn’Tal’s vines lashed where The Soul Survivor’s ship should have been, and Vince flew close enough that his four missiles would have slammed into it, but nothing happened.

Carmen reached for her headset and snapped it on.  No horrible screeching sounded.

“Hello?” she said.  Silence filled the channel.  Right before she turned it off again, a distant click signified the presence of another line joining.

“Query: availability?”

“Xorn’Tal!” she shouted.  “Great.  I was worried when I didn’t hear anyone.”

“Channel: compromised/noisy/useless.  Disconnection: warranted.”

“Makes sense.  No sign of the tough guy?”

“Coward: Fled?”

Another click heralded the arrival of a new participant.

“Hello?” asked Vince.

“Greetingage,” said Xorn’Tal.

“Hey,” said Carmen.  “Vince, I think you and Xorn’Tal might’ve chased him off.”

“I think he was counting on us to back down,” said Vince.

“I think you’re right,” said Carmen.  “I’m guessing he wasn’t prepared to fight three at once.”

“I confess you are correct,” said the Soul Survivor, chiming in over their speakers.  “But I have always been prepared for two.”

From a different region of space, the green and purple energy lanced toward Vince’s asteroid, smearing it with the tractor beam’s energy field and creating a barrier between the asteroid and the four smaller rocks floating around it.  The beam of energy sliced through space, carrying Vince’s ship with it.  Midway through the pendulous arc, the beam vanished, and the field began to dissipate, but only as Vince’s ride hurtled toward Xorn’Tal’s asteroid.  Xorn’Tal’s vines spiraled together, possibly in an attempt to make a defensive cushion, and Carmen saw the telltale slowing of the asteroid that indicated that Flashman was trying to regain control of his ride.  The two asteroids collided, slowly but with visible damage.

Carmen held her breath.  Vince and Xorn’Tal had both had the right combination of training and practical experience to survive an impact like that, asteroid collisions being one of the primary concerns of the racing federation.  Even so, a direct hit like that could leave someone dead.

“Xorn?!” Carmen shouted?  “Vince?!”

“They can’t hear you,” said The Soul Survivor.

“You’re blocking my channel?”

“Either that, or they’re dead.  I’d rather not say, as uncertainty is a powerful tool.  Now, I commend your bravado in the face of unquestionable defeat, but I really do insist that you surrender.”

Carmen glared.  Her asteroid shot through the void in the direction that she had last seen The Soul Survivor’s ship.  From a different location the beam again arced through space, and once again locked onto Carmen’s asteroid.

“Foolish racer.  Your psychic power is an incredible gift, but it can be shut down by a device so simple that it isn’t even regulated as a weapon by most militaries.  Your mind would have to be magnified even beyond the power of mine to fight back against tractor beams.  Why do you think that roving gangs of Petrakinetic pirates haven’t conquered systems by now? Why don’t the armies of known space employ petrakinetic divisions?  Your power is a simple one, one that I can nullify at the push of a button.”

Carmen stared in the direction of the beam before turning her back on the invisible ship, looking toward Vince Flashman and Xorn’Tal.  Their asteroids were beginning to drift apart.  She noted a variance in the flow of Xorn’Tal’s asteroid and a twitching of the fronds and vines that grew from its surface.  Vince’s changed its course, possibly a change small enough that someone unfamiliar with the personal touch involved in petrakinetic manipulation wouldn’t notice.  They were alive.

“Yeah, but at the end of the day we’re the ones still standing.  No deal.”

“I see,” said The Soul Survivor.  “To clarify your situation: since you won’t surrender, I will envelope one of your friends’ asteroids with the tractor beam, and launch it at the other one again.  This will continue until there asteroids no longer remain.  The moment you begin interfering, a moment we both know will arrive, you will be included in this constant barrage of asteroids.  You and your two allies will be dead, your oft-celebrated asteroids will be unidentifiable rubble, and I will continue to operate without a scratch.”

“We know what to expect now,” said Carmen.  “You can only hit one of us at a time, and when we start getting a good fix on your ship we’ll have a better shot at keeping out of your tractor beam’s sights.  It won’t take long to end you.”

“Do you have long?” said the Soul Survivor.  “Can any of you be lucky enough to survive two more collisions like that? One more?”

“I’m fine risking it.”

“Are you fine risking them?  Last chance to avoid the carnage, Carmen Shift.  You can save their lives, or end them.”

Carmen turned to look at the other two asteroids.  She had no idea what was happening on them right now, other than the fact that they were probably both alive.  They might even be in a coma and nearing a total loss of atmosphere.  Or they could be ready to fight.  And it was a fight they could win, in that case.  But only in that case.

The green and purple field again vanished from her sky, instantly shifting to cover Xorn’Tal’s asteroid.  The tractor beam swung like a pendulum, and pulled the massive rock along with it, nearing the point of its curve where it would be easiest to fling it at Vince’s ship.

“Wait!” shouted Carmen.  “Wait, don’t… do that.  I’ll surrender.”

“Excellent.  Prepare to board the vessel when it reappears.  I’m happy to hear that the three of you have chosen to live.”

Zack felt thrilled.  He wasn’t sure how much of his leap from Carmen’s asteroid was caused by the gravity of the planet overhead, how much was caused by Carmen pulling away, how much was caused by the robotic parachute he was wearing, or how much was due to his own two legs, but the fact remained that he was experiencing a successful jump straight into the air.  Achieving escape velocity, seemingly under his own power in spite of what he knew about the situation, was nearly remarkable enough to make him forget the near-death situation he’d been in moments earlier.  He hadn’t been expecting the sudden deployment of the breathing apparatus, and the sudden cold as he transitioned from the thin atmosphere of Carmen’s asteroid to the thinner atmosphere of the far, far reaches of the uppermost levels of Mandrake’s atmosphere.

His parachute was perplexed.  The programmed trip had been from a moving asteroid to the surface of a planet, and by the time it had activated the collision with the incoming asteroid was effectively inevitable.  It was still an interesting job, one that it was happy to do of course, but it certainly wasn’t expected when it activated moments after Zack’s jump.  Based on the way its wearer was responding, its wearer wasn’t expecting it either.  With weary disappointment, the parachute began steering Zack’s ascent/descent toward the incoming asteroid in a route that would, hopefully, be safer than just crashing into it.  Milliseconds later, it triggered the proximity alarm, the closest alarm to to the current situation based on what its logic sensors could tell.  Finally, it opted not to activate the one-use heat shield.  The trip to the next asteroid would be uncomfortably cold, but it would be survivable for the few seconds that it lasted.

“What now?” asked Zack, looking over his shoulder at the parachute.  The alarm was worrying.  He thought he could see Carmen trying to pin Nectra on the surface of the asteroid below.  Suddenly, his orientation shifted as the parachute on his back activated its thrusters, spinning him upside-down.  Zack screamed at the sudden spin, not ready for his view to be filled by the green planet that had been overhead moments ago.

Zack took a few deep breaths.  The spin made sense.  His parachute would want him to land feet first, and it would be better to do that now instead of much, much closer to the surface.

Zack’s view of Mandrake was suddenly blocked by another landmass as another asteroid careened into his path.  Zack waved his arms frantically and futilely, not noticing a second set of thrusters activating to cancel the spin and guide his descent.  The parachute located a wonderful landing patch, flat and uncomplicated.  Even better, someone was already there to lend assistance in case this sudden landing didn’t go as planned.  It might not be the trip that the parachute expected, but it was turning into an incredible journey just the same.

Zack prepared for impact as well as he could.  Thanks to the relatively small size of the asteroids, only a few moments passed before he saw the asteroid’s controller below him.  He’d instinctively expected to see another racer, but grimaced at the sight of the only other option.  The Phantom Matador looked up at him, raising a glowing phase sword in greeting.

Zack’s robotic parachute guided his descent, furiously firing the thrusters so that Zack landed with a grace that surprised him.  The thrusters and balancing arms in the parachute folded, and he glared at The Phantom Matador as the mysterious man in black spun his sword in a circle, as if preparing for a duel.

“So the fair lady Carmen, greatest of the Asteroid Racers and truest of the petrakinetics, devised a ruse.  Rather than hiring people to wait outside of the race to catch me when I arrive or depart as the Racing Federation did, she hires an investigative bodyguard to wait on her very vessel.  An ingenious plan.  I don’t mind saying that I’ve not anticipated it.”

“What?” asked Zack.  Instantly, it occurred to him that the Phantom Matador was the one significant adversary in his life who didn’t know that there was a price on his head.

“Right!” he said, correcting himself.  “Carmen’s idea, one I was happy to execute.  I admit I’m not used to jumping between asteroids, but I figured it was the best option.”

“I have many prepared steps for dancing with Carmen,” said the Matador.  “Many methods of prolonging the celestial chase.  But I admit that I’m eager to try my hand at improvising.  Don’t expect this to go as well for you as it did at the hotel.”

“Buddy, you’ve got the wrong idea about you and Carmen,” said Zack, drawing his pistols.  “If you think she wants to dance with someone who uses a word like celestial, I think you’ve got the wrong idea about her.  She’s not interested.”

The Matador’s eyes narrowed.  Zack couldn’t see the rest of his face due to the mask he wore, but he imagined from the furrowing of the brow that the Matador was contemplating something.  After a moment he deactivated his phase sword and turned from Zack to stare into the sky.

“I know,” he said.  “She will almost certainly never see me in that way.  But the sport she perfected… the techniques she refined… they will not be denied to me.  In time, perhaps she will accept my contributions to the field.”

“If you think any of the racers see what you’re doing as contributing-”

“Why not?” he said.  “The rabble adores me, the Federation supports me… I’ve even learned that my statistics will be included in the final listings for the season.”

“What?” asked Zack, his pistols dropping.  Something seemed off about that information.  Off in a familiar way.

“I won’t be listed as an official racer, of course.  My scores will be modified to reflect the fact that I am not registered, and that I always entered races well after the starting line.  But perhaps, in time, I can continue my work as a true racer from behind the mask.  No career has had such a storied start as mine.”

Zack smiled as the pieces went together.  He leveled his weapons at the Matador again, changing the settings to stun.

“Sorry,” he said.  “The mask just came off.  For me at least.”

“What?” asked the Matador, turning back.

“I know who you are,” said Zack.

The Matador’s eyes narrowed again.  The sword in his hand reactivated.

“No you don’t,” said The Matador.

“Oh, I do,” said Zack.  “Well… eighty percent sure.  Put your sword down, and land on Mandrake unless you want me to shoot you again.”

“You’ve never shot me,” said The Matador.  “You only shot the rocks I propelled at you at the hotel.”

Before Zack could reply a thunderous quake ripped through The Phantom Matador’s asteroid, throwing Zack to his knees.  Irritatingly, The Matador rolled with the tremor, rocking his legs to keep his footing.  The two looked in the direction of the noise and saw another asteroid, slammed into the surface of The Matador’s.

“Flashman,” said The Matador.  “The child seeks to interfere.”

Another crash from the opposite direction caused the two to spin.  Zack saw an asteroid covered with vines and plants impacting The Matador’s rock.  Vines from the new asteroid quickly shot out to wrap around protrusions upon the Matador’s little world.

“No,” said The Matador.  “The interlopers have conspired against me.”

“Sorry,” said Zack.  “You had to know that this wouldn’t last.  Now, put down your weapons before-”

The Phantom Matador spun in place, and like a ballet performer leaped through the air toward Zack.  The phase sword in his hand swung down an instant after Zack leaped back himself, the glow of the energy blade ionizing the air in front of him and leaving the scent of evaporating rain.  Zack fired with his pistols at close range, but The Matador bent to the side with nearly supernatural speed.  As another tremor shook the asteroid from the two racers on either side of the rock working together to bring it down, Zack twirled his weapons and faced his enemy, thinking about the footwork he’d just seen.

“Awful fast there,” he said.  “Too slow to peg me, but too fast for me to hit at point blank range?”

“Don’t count on being lucky a second time,” said The Matador, leaning back into a defensive stance, holding his blade ready.  Zack took a deep breath and focused on the ground, keeping a close eye on The Matador’s feet.

“People like me don’t get lucky,” said Zack.  “Doesn’t stop us from getting people like you.”

The smallest displacement of dust an inch to the left of The Matador told Zack everything he needed.  He fired his pistols frantically, and The Phantom Matador tried dodging again.  This time the dodge intersected with the blast of energy from the Striker pistols.  The Matador screamed in surprise, his sword flickered and deactivated, and he fell to the ground.

“Head games,” said Zack.  “Minor illusions.  Not enough to really be in two places at once, but just enough to be a little ahead of the curve.  I’m betting the mutation that gives you petrakinesis also lets you dabble in that kind of thing, just like Carmen’s gives her some say on how gravity works around her.  Am I right? Or are you just ridiculously fast?  If so, then I guess I was wrong; I do get lucky.”

The Phantom Matador groaned a response, too stunned to reply, or likely too stunned to be aware of what was happening.  Zack saw the hilt of what would be the phase blade if it was activated and kicked it away just before The Matador’s twitching hand could reach out to reclaim it.

“I’m guessing it’s also helped you to stay undetected, but you can explain that from behind bars.  Sad to say that I can’t stay around for the trial, but since it looks like Carmen and her two friends will be able to cart you off to jail there’s really no need for me to do that, is there?”

Zack turned The Phantom Matador over with his foot and looked into the stunned eyes of the would-be racer.  He leaned down and grabbed the brim of The Matador’s wide hat and the black cloth mask with his hands.

“No reason I can’t satisfy my curiosity and see if I’m right, though.  Let’s see who you really are…”

Two clawed feet landed on Zack’s back, propelling him forward and away from The Phantom Matador.  Zack rolled to a stop and looked behind him to see Nectra landing between him and The Matador, a mad look in her eyes and a twirling staff in her hand, apparently no longer carrying a sufficient charge to maintain the scythe blade.  After a moment, she held up a finger as if asking for a moment while her wings wrapped around herself.  She breathed heavily, shivering.

“Nectra?”

“So… cold…”

“In the space between asteroids? Yeah, it’s cold,” said Zack.  He noticed an unusual chill in the air, though, something even colder than the already cool air on the surface of the Asteroids.  He looked in the air behind Nectra and saw Carmen’s asteroid, closer to The Phantom Matador’s than it had been even when he’d made the jump between the two.

Nectra finished warming up and excitedly looked to Zack.

“Well then,” she said.  “We need to finish this.  I really am sorry, but it’s the only way.”

“Hold on,” said Zack.  “You shouldn’t have been that cold.  You were freezing.  How long until-”

“Wait, is this asteroid’s racer unconscious?” asked Nectra, seeing the Matador on the ground.

“Well… stunned, maybe,” said Zack.

Mandrake was a green, chaotic planet named for its sprawling, reportedly dangerous vegetation.  The jungles and regions of poisonous gasses gave the world a green glow that was visible even on Veskid.  That same glow was now filling most of the sky over Zack’s head as Carmen steered her asteroid closer and closer.  Zack had his eyes on the ground, though, as the shangmere’s energy scythe slowly carved an exit to the surface.  Zack opened his coat and withdrew his Purcellian Striker pistols, powering them up to get ready for a fight.

“Can’t you just… take the floor away from her, make her fall back to the center of the asteroid?”

“Wouldn’t really work with the way that I’m trying to keep the gravity working,” said Carmen.  “And even if it did, I don’t think the asteroid can crunch much more before falling apart.  Plus she’s, like, a bat person, right?  Doesn’t she have hook hand thingies that could just hang onto the wall long enough to get out?”

“Shangmere, not bat person,” said Zack.  “But… yeah, good point on all counts.”

“What’s that blade made out of, anyway?  It’s cutting through the rock faster than… well, about anything I’ve seen used on it.”

“Some sort of energy,” said Zack.  “She talked about Virellium.  From what I’ve heard, that stuff can cut through stone like a knife through warm milk.”

“Virellium?” said Carmen.  “Seriously?  How’d she get that much?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not pure.  It’s probably some other energy being shaped by trace Virellium particles.  Weird thing is she said she could activate it through bits of Virellium still on me.”

“When did you get your hands on some Virellium?”

“Never happened,” said Zack.

“Sure about that?”

“Even with my memory going like a sieve, I’m pretty sure I’d remember encountering Virellium.

The ground near the protruding blade crunched and dropped before coming to an abrupt stop.

“Ow!” said a muffled voice from beneath the rock.  Zack let his pistols drop for a moment as the stone slab began uncomfortably rocking from side to side.

“Not quite up to the standards of most people who kill you, is she?,” said Carmen.  Her face twitched and her gaze snapped to the left horizon.  “No!”

“What?” asked Zack, turning.  Another asteroid was coming into view, rising and taking up a large portion of the sky.  Zack could barely make out the image of another human standing on top of it, waving like a tourist on a nearby mountain peak.  Carmen tapped her headset.

“Not gonna be that easy, Flashman,” said Carmen.

Zack couldn’t hear Vince’s response, but another rumble from the stone slab refocused his attention on the shangmere.  With a rolling toss, the stone pitched to the side and fell into the revealed tunnel.  With an acrobatic flip, the shangmere rolled from the tunnel and onto the surface of the asteroid.  Zack aimed his guns at her, while she looked up with a mad grin.

“Hi!” she said.

“Stay back,” said Zack.  “Look, the Desperate Measures Agency’s bounty isn’t worth it if you’re not alive to spend it.”

“I’m not interested in the b… wow, Mandrake looks amazing!”

The shangmere rose to her full height and stared into the sky, watching the massive green orb overhead.  Zack stared at the would-be assassin, marveling at the complete focus.  The planet was actually visible in her eyes, their larger surface area making such reflections more discernible than when they happened on humans.

“It… does,” he said.  “You’re not interested in the bounty?”

She stopped looking at the planet and snapped her head toward Zack.

“What? Right, no, I’m not.  Just you.”

“I don’t recognize you,” said Zack.  “Are you not a member of the DMA?”

“Oh, no, no I’m not,” she said.  “Sorry, I’m not good at this.  I’m Nectra, I should’ve said that sooner.”

“Hold onto your hat!” shouted Carmen, leaning forward.  The stones of the asteroid creaked and individual pebbles upon it rattled.  After the inertial shaking calmed, she looked over her shoulder at Nectra.  “Lady, I’m fine giving you a free ride, but don’t tangle with my friends while you’re on my rock.  I’ve got too much on my plate today.”

“Can I have your autograph?” asked Nectra.

“Only if you stop trying to kill Zack.”

Nectra sighed with disappointment and jumped at Zack, spinning her scythe in a wide arc.  Zack narrowly fell back, tripping over his own feet to stumble backward.  Scowling, he fired both of his pistols.  The beams of energy bent through the air, diverting from their path and impacting the blade of the scythe.  The staff-like handle in Nectra’s hands glowed brilliantly for a second, crackling at the base and harmlessly discharging.  Zack gaped at the sight and Nectra exhaled, relieved.

“I’m so glad that worked!  I wasn’t sure it would.”

“What?” asked Zack.  “You… didn’t even try to dodge.  How… how?”

“I don’t have the reaction time needed to move out of the way from a ray gun before you pull the trigger,” said Nectra.  “And after you pull the trigger, the beam moves at light speed, so it’s too late to dodge.  Fortunately, your files said that you favor Purcellian Strikers.  The magnetic charge it carries is divertable.  I repurposed my scythe to act like a lightning rod for that kind of energy, letting it harmlessly discharge.  Ooh, your hat!”

“What?” Zack said, just in time for it to register that his hat was gently lifting off of his head.  He reached up and held it down.

“I meant it about holding on,” said Carmen.  “Mandrake’s gravity is pulling us, and the asteroid’s not strong enough to fight that for long, even with me helping it!”

Zack looked up.  The planet was filling the sky.  Zack looked back at Nectra as she twirled her scythe, preparing to leap again.  He jumped back before that could happen, and propelled himself further than intended, almost crashing into Carmen.

“What’s the escape velocity here?” asked Zack.

“Low enough,” said Carmen.

Nectra ran towards the two, sprinting across the surface of the asteroid at a speed that Zack couldn’t believe.  He took a deep breath, crouched, and jumped straight up.  The ground fell away from him, dropping away at a dizzying rate.  Nectra’s bat-like wings unfolded, and she jumped as well, only to have her ankle grabbed as Carmen, jumping at a more practiced angle, passed just beneath her.  Carmen yanked down hard, throwing the shangmere to the ground as she landed.

“Don’t!” said a voice in her headset.

“I know what I’m doing, Vince,” said Carmen.  “The stowaway tried to interrupt my friend’s jump.”

“I meant your friend shouldn’t jump now!”

“Why?” asked Carmen, looking up.  Her eyes widened.

Zack was rocketing through the air, no longer rising from the asteroid so much as beginning to fall toward the upper atmosphere of Mandrake.  From the other horizon, hurtling faster than her own rock, came another asteroid.  It was zipping on a near-collision course toward Zack.

A private channel snapped to life, originating from Xorn’tal’s leafy, vine-choked asteroid. Vince Flashman opened the channel, scanning the skies over his head even before Mark Matthews finished speaking. The final haunting notes of the mariachi fanfare faded into the background, a theme that had been growing a little longer with each race.

“Sign of: Interloper,” came Xorn’tal’s hollow, translated voice.

“Yeah, but no sight of him on my end,” said Vince. “How about you?”

“Negative. Adversary: elusive.”

A quiet chime heralded the arrival of a third member in the channel, the only other person invited.

“Any sight of him?” asked Carmen.

“No,” said Vince. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I’ve got a good look from behind you two.”

“Vector: rectifying. Solidarity: Commencing.”

“Guys, I don’t want to bail on the plan, I really don’t,” said Carmen. “But I’ve got a lot on my plate this race.”

“Right, the extra passenger.”

“No, the… right, the extra passenger.”

“Just tell him to sit tight, promise an autograph, and let him know what an amazing view he’ll have when you get to the checkpoint.”

“Her, actually,” said Carmen. “And she might have a weapon. I’ve got her in some of the caves in the rock, she went down there for some reason. But now she’s cutting her way out.”

“Danger! Carmen: dock!”

“Yeah, why haven’t you bailed yet?” said Vince.

Carmen looked over her shoulder at Zack, who was watching her curiously. He couldn’t hear the private channel, but he could hear her side of the conversation.

“I’m gonna finish the race, guys,” said Carmen. “If this was happening to a regular racer, they’d issue a flight hazard and make it easier to get rid of the hitchhiker. But I contacted them when we first started, and since I already qualify they won’t disrupt the race for my benefit.”

“Offer: sympathies, sincere,” said Xorn’tal. “Ruling: sensible.”

“Yeah, I agree with leaf boy,” said Vince. “I don’t like it, but I can see their reasoning.  And winning a qualifying race… any race, really… isn’t worth putting yourself in danger.”

“Yeah, well, as the person in first place my opinion’s a little different.”

“Count again, Carmen,” said Vince. “You’re in second.”

Carmen looked at the rotating, star-filled sky above and ahead of her. She could just barely make out the rookie in the lead. She smiled at the sight of the new vector being taken.

“Just because you’re about to finish in fourth doesn’t mean I’m not crossing that finish line first,” said Carmen. “It looks like the would-be winner’s not heading to Mandrake. You know, a person could get a decent speed boost if they went that way…”

“Carmen, we said no surprises.”

“YOU said no surprises,” said Carmen. “And how is that a surprise? It offers a speed boost, it’s still in the legal racing territory, and it gives me a chance to get ahead of the wannabe.”

“Carmen. Fear: straight-shots.”

“Hey, I could take her on the straight-shots,” said Carmen. “But I’m far enough behind that I’m going to go for Mandrake.”

“We said we’d stick together, Carmen,” said Vince.

“Hey, that’s your call,” said Carmen. “I’m in the lead. If you think you’re more likely to find the Phantom Matador on your route, go for it.”

The line went uncomfortably silent for a moment.

“Matador: oblique angles. Mandrake: not atypical.”

“Xorn’tal, don’t…” said Vince.

“Vince: shaky flying/afraid? Analysis: chicken.”

“Hey, don’t call Vince chicken,” said Carmen. “If he doesn’t wanna go to Mandrake, that’s fine.  He’s never done this course before, the guy deserves to see it how it’s meant to be seen.  In fact, why don’t you stick to the main course, too.”

“I don’t need coddling,” said Vince.  “I guess you’ll see me at Mandrake.”

“Vince, you don’t-”

“I’d say that I’d see you, but since I’ll be in the lead by then you won’t be in my skyline.”

“Fine!” said Carmen.  “You’re on!”

“Maintain: focus,” said Xorn’tal.  “Focus: Matador.”

Carmen clenched her teeth.

“Right,” said Carmen.  “Focus on the Matador.  Vince, you’re on until we get our first true visual on the Matador.”

Carmen leaned to the left, and the asteroid tumbled out of its flight path, heading toward the planet Mandrake.  With speeds that had been gradually increasing since the start of the race, what had been a green speck earlier was now recognizable as more than a shiny star.

“Who are you talking to?” said Zack.

“Competitors,” said Carmen.  “Trash talk.  Don’t worry about it.  Oh, but… okay, worry about it.  The Phantom Matador’s around, and now there’s going to be at least two people right behind me when you make your jump.”

“My secret jump that no one can see?”

“It’s a beautiful day for a race, folks,” said Mark Matthews, his voice channeling through every speaker set to cover the race’s progress.  “The amazing constellations around Veskid are always a sight to behold when the asteroid racers converge for the Nebula Cup.

Carmen stood on top of her rock, the asteroid known to fact hunters as Kinetic Kuiper.  She inhaled and felt the rough edges, jagged corners, and unyielding density of the stone that she’d felt when she first located it.  It was the fourth asteroid she’d raced on that she could truly call her own, but it had lasted longer than any of the others.  Her petrakinetic connection to it told her more than just the asteroid’s size, shape, and weight, though: she could feel her own weight standing on top of it, and the metal of the platform that it rested upon.  She was dimly aware of Zack inside the asteroid, sitting in place and probably listening to Mark’s pre-game spiel  She felt the atmosphere pushing down against the asteroid, the easily-forgotten weight of air pushing against it, a weight she would need to maintain.

“Over the next month we’ll be bringing you eleven races related to the Nebula, folks, as these eager competitors square off against each other,” said Mark.  “Two regular races every week, with the first of those just two days from now.  Those eight races naturally lead up to the championship race on the twenty-ninth, and the traditional Challenge of Atlas, while not weighed against the official score of the race will be happening roughly midway through the series.  We couldn’t keep the racers from an Atlas Run if we tried, I think.  That’s neither here nor there, though, as we’ve got the first of the races coming up in just moments, the qualifying match that will separate this season’s racers from the hopefuls!  Scores of promising petrakinetics from around the Angelor Republic have proven themselves in one way or another, and this is the race that tells us which of them will be in, and which need to head back to their home courses for another season of training!”

Carmen focused on the weight of the atmosphere.  She could feel the strange ripples in the air current as the other racers around her did the same.  Each had slightly different ways of handling it, ranging from those who could psychically spin the wind to those lucky anaerobic aliens who simply didn’t breathe oxygen.  Carmen focused on her own mind, and used her secondary gift to make sure that her atmosphere would stay in place beyond the force field.

Zack huddled in the cave of the asteroid, listening to Matthews over his headset and watching a video screen that cycled between different views of the course, starting line, and the stands of cheering audience members.  He noted three locations for audiences, one at the starting and finishing line, one at a small, ring-shaped space station through which the racers would soar, and a final set of stands on a massive asteroid itself, though one with a technological force field keeping its atmosphere in place rather than through any petrakinetic means.  Those would be the tickets that sold for the most as the location allowed the spectators to get a taste of what it might actually be like to stand on an asteroid in the races.

“Carmen, what do you think the odds are of the Phantom Matador showing up for this race?”

Carmen winced at the question when it came over her headset.  She fumbled with the control at her ear and cleared her throat.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” said Zack.  “I’m keeping my eye on the final set of seats, the bleachers on the asteroid.”

“That’s pretty close to the end of the race,” she said.  “If everything goes according to plan, you’ll be off the asteroid before we get there.  Aren’t we here to worry about your problems today?”

“Look, I’ve got a hunch but might not be on time to ring the bells.  You’ll need to be my eyes.”

“What?”

“Hugo.  Never mind, just… just keep your eyes open.  If the Phantom Matador shows up, keep a close eye on his flight path, especially in relation to those bleachers.”

“You think he’s sneaking in with the audience and… keeping the asteroid he’ll ride on there somehow?”

“If I wanted to pull a stunt like that on this particular course, that’s how I’d do it.  That doesn’t mean anything, though, since I’m sure the police have also tried-”

“Hate to cut you off, Zack, but we’ve got less than forty-five seconds.  Let me focus.  Can’t mess up my atmo, you know.”

Zack turned off his headset.  After a second, he turned it back on.

“How do you maintain the atmosphere?”

“What?”

“You’re petrakinetic, that’s not got anything to do with air currents.  How-”

“You’re asking me this now?!”

“Sorry, you talked about maintaining atmosphere, and it reminded me of-”

Carmen turned off her headset and inhaled.  She didn’t need to be distracted by Zack’s technical questions, or by his talk about the Phantom Matador.  Right now, all that mattered was her atmosphere, her rock, and her speed, and for that she needed to keep her attention on what was happening right now.

“There’s the race conductor, folks,” said Mark Matthews, his voice reaching all of the audience members and racers.  “He’s approaching the top of the Talonite Trilithon that arcs over the starting line, the same Trilithon seen in the Nebula Circuit’s logo.  He’s observing the racers, reaching for his hilt, and drawing the customary Angelor Light Blade.  He’s raising it over his head… the racers are all watching for the ceremonial swing that will signal the start… and they’re off!”

Much earlier, on another world…

Sister Barris put down the newspaper at the sequence of raps on the door.  She grabbed the Decryption Napkin that she’d hastily written yesterday.  Three staccato knocks followed by two longer hollow ones meant that it was safe.  She crossed to the door, knocked twice, and heard the first four knocks of a standard Shave And A Haircut sequence.  She opened the door an inch and saw Zack Gamma’s hat, sitting on his head.

“Everything’s good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you use the Napkin?”

“Yes…”

“All right, let me in.”

Barris opened the door the rest of the way and Zack stepped through.  He looked at the table by the door and saw the Neuralization Ray sitting out in the open and, worse, not in Barris’ possession.  He closed the door and looked at Barris who held her hands up defensively.

“I don’t want to use that,” said Barris.

“Barris, your track record suggests that you’re more dangerous in a tough spot than I am.”

“Neuralization Rays can cause brain damage.”

“That’s never been proven.  How’s everyone’s favorite rich guy?”

“Stressed.  He’s in the sitting room.”

“Great.”

Zack crossed the entryway and reached the sitting room.  Azar sat in his chair, watching a film on a screen that was generated inside an artistic frame.  Azar looked up when Zack entered, and snapped his fingers.  The movie paused.  Zack flipped his hat off his head, tossed it onto the sofa adjacent to the chair, and took a seat next to it while pointing at the screen.

“Handy feature.  How long did it take to program?”

“Not long at all.  What did you find out?”

“Good news, bad news,” said Zack.  “The good news is that Bristlecorp is no longer holding people on retainer for the case against you, at least no one who wouldn’t be on retainer anyway.  There’s no more big legal action being readied, which confirms our suspicion that it’s just saber rattling on their part.  Their case was flimsier than a kite made out of paper airplanes.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Azar.  “Am I safe, then?”

“That brings me to the bad news.  There’s some… talk… in certain circles that began almost immediately after they stopped the legal prep.  Someone with lots of money to throw around, or lots of money on the line, is looking to hire the sorts of people who break legs.  You get me?”

“I think so,” said Azar.  Zack nodded expectantly, waiting for his client to continue, but Azar just stared at the floor, looking worried and weary.  After a few tense moments passed, Zack cleared his throat and continued.

“I still don’t like how Bristlecorp set up their legal action.  It was sloppy.  Rushed.  These are people who make Faberges acting like they want to make an omelet.”

“Barris says that they’re acting like a dying animal in its death throes.”

“They are.  And that’d make a lot of sense if you were being chased by a wounded orangutan or space tiger that no one had noticed roaming around town before, but major interplanetary corporations can usually keep themselves together a little better than this.”

“Can I trust you?”

“Of course,” said Zack, smiling.  “Why couldn’t you?”

“Sister Barris has told me that the people in your line of business aren’t just about protecting people.  She’s told me that some of you are hired to track down people like me.  Sometimes, the Desperate Measures Agency winds up eliminating targets for the right price.  She says she trusts you… but she’s also said some terrible things about the kinds of people who work with you.”

Zack narrowed his eyes and looked out the door into the entry hall.  Sister Barris was reading the newspaper at the little table she’d set up for herself, but suddenly looked like she was trying very hard not to listen in.  Zack turned back to Azar.

“All the cards on the table,” said Zack.  “The Desperate Measures Agency has assassins.  It does.  I’m not proud of that.  Keeps me up at night sometimes.  The DMA’s one of the shadiest rackets in the shadiest city of a shady planet.  The city’s name used to be Desperation, and renaming itself after the planet hasn’t done much to improve it yet.  But I’ve never taken that kind of job from them, and I never will.”

“I’m supposed to trust that?”

“You’re supposed to trust Barris.  She’s the cagiest, craftiest, and most aggravatingly thorough lawyer I’ve ever met, and she needed a quick friend in a low place.  She and I’ve done a little work together before, even if it was different from this, so she knew a little about me before this all started, but trust me when I tell you that if I hadn’t been trustable then you wouldn’t be talking to me.”

“What if no one is trustworthy?”

“If no one was trustworthy, you wouldn’t have gotten your money in the first place,” said Zack.  “If the society had gotten that hopelessly corrupt, you wouldn’t be in so much danger.  Now, as to my company… the DMA won’t offer its employees a job to work against you since Barris already hired me, but that won’t stop some of the people there from getting the job elsewhere.  Ultimately, the problem’s still the same: any assassin, bounty hunter, or hitman for hire might be approached about this job, and if the DMA’s not offering their employees the bounty then people will start taking a look at the agents who’re protecting people.  It’s going to be a little riskier for me to come talk to you directly, at least for a while, so part of what I need to set up is a system for contacting you that won’t be noticed.  It might even help if you and I aren’t on the same planet, but I don’t want to rush into that.  Rushing leads to mistakes.  My guess is that you won’t have to wait long before this starts to blow over, but in either case we can get through this by going slow and steady.  Sound good?”

***

Maul hid behind the dumpster, watching the far end of the alley.  He patted down the tufts of fur around his head, worried that they might stick out too far and give away his position, but so far no one had looked between the two buildings or even walked in front of them.  He might be in the clear.

He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm his nerves.  He’d been hiding for three minutes.  He’d give it another two.

The brick wall behind him burst apart and a massive, manacled hand shot through the flying bricks and debris.  Maul screamed as the bricks and mortar spiraled, moving with a precision and calculated grace, somehow falling around him without immediately crushing him.  The hand, bearing the legally mandated gauntlet that was known to thousands of irate fans across a dozen worlds, clamped onto Maul’s shoulder.

Soon, it was silent.  The clattering of bricks had stopped, and the only sound was Maul’s panicked breathing as he stared into the stern face that he’d seen so often when he was just a cub.  The human… if he was a human… appraised Maul with an appropriately glacial speed before speaking.

“You used to work for Azar.”

“N…”

The faintest twitch of a finger on the gauntlet and spasms of pain shot through Maul’s shoulder.  The news reports hadn’t been exaggerated.

“Yes!” he said.  “Yes, he hired me!  Me and my friends!”

“I’ve spoken to your friends.  Where is Azar now?”

“I don’t know,” wailed Maul.  “I don’t know.  He left a chip for each of us.  There was over a year’s pay on mine with a note saying that he probably wouldn’t be able to rehire us.  Said some scary people were looking for him.”

“Good,” said the man.  “Your friends said the same thing… either you got your stories straight in advance, or you’re all telling the truth.”

“Just don’t hurt me, okay?  I don’t… I don’t know where Azar is, and I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not going to kill you.  I just need a little help.”

“Okay.  But… look, that job’s the best thing that ever happened to me.  Azar’s a good guy.  I don’t want to hurt him, okay Iceberg?”

There was a moment of silence before a pained sigh.  The man’s gauntlet released Maul’s shoulder, and the lion-like alien dropped to the ground, clutching his upper arm.

“I’m not The Iceberg anymore.  It’s just Harold now.”