Halfbreed Ch. 07

The two were now zooming through downtown Charity City traffic, zipping past other hovercars as Fignet weaved his way through traffic. The constant turning, twisting and shift in balance made it impossible for Mike to find his feet, and Fignet's half-looking punches weren't helping any.

They turned in a broad curve as the flow of traffic weaved its way past the tallest skyscrapers of the city, the glimmering light of thousands of window panes reflecting the sun into Mike's eyes. He shielded them, even as he yanked back on Fignet's seatbelt, taking a fistful of it as he made a gesture with his hand. In a flash he hacked through the material, sending it flying as Fignet let out another Dwarven curse. He smoothed out his turn, tipping the hovercar to a more normal level to prevent himself from falling out of the car.

The Dwarf kicked a button on the bottom, sending his chair backwards in an attempt to pin Mike in place. Mike shoved himself over to the far seat, clinging once again for dear life as the car accelerated. The wind was near-deafening, and Fignet's path became more erratic as he drove. Out of options, Fignet pulled off the central artery of the skyway, dropping off the high-altitude lanes as he zipped down through Darklys, the Alien Quarter of the city. Mike felt the depression of air as the car bolted far faster than normal across the muggy skyline.

Timing his moment, Mike leapt forward into the forward console just as the Dwarven merchant hit the breaks. The result was that Mike was flung headlong into Fignet, tangling together in a flurry of shoves and elbows and fists.

Mike made a reach for the wheel, and Fignet repeatedly pushed him away. As close as he was, Mike could have stabbed the stunty and been done with it. But at this point, after all this trouble, he wanted answers.

The fight grew desperate and dirty: the Dwarf curled his fingers together, jabbing Mike in the chin. Mike responded by yanking his beard, which caused Fignet to outright scream. Sensing an opportunity, Mike grabbed the controls, steering the ship downward at a sharp right angle towards the ground.

"You deadbeat booster! Shifty ape!" The Dwarf shouted.

"You owe me a goddamn ship!" Mike yelled back, dropping the car into a steep dive towards the ground.

The two continued to feud over the control panel, pushing and jostling up until the final moment when both lost control. Mike had just enough time to let go of the controls and fall back into the backseat before the bottom of the hovercar bounced against the ground, landing in a wide alley between buildings. The bounce became a skid as Fignet failed to regain control, and the Hovercar's built-in sensors killed the engine's forward momentum, forcing the thing to correct itself and revert to a hover.

Mike managed to pick himself up from the floor of the backseat before Fignet could recover, forming a thick dagger and stabbing it deep into the ship's console. Sparks erupted from the front of the car, and the turbines shuddered into silence. The car collapsed with a perfunctory clunk against the ground.

"You thrice-damned Con." The Dwarf snarled as he kicked open the driver's door. "That's another debt you've cost me!"

"Yeah, little man?" Mike challenged back. He scrambled to extricate himself from the car, but found his legs were made of jelly. "Who do you think got stiffed more in this arrangement of ours, huh?"

Fignet, flush with anger, his braided beard askew, leapt from the front of the car, running up the street as fast as his small legs could take him. "You stole from me, and came back for the bill!"

"No... honor among thieves!" Mike shouted as he finally extricated himself from the back of the hover car. Fignet was now nearly a half block up the street. "You little bastard." He muttered under his breath as he hurried to keep up.

They were deep in Cat Town, the Catian portion of Darklys. Catians dotted the streets, an excess of females represented in the clean but seedy portion of the city. A Catian with clipped ears and a dyed, fringed hairdo turned her head as Mike burst out onto the thoroughfare. The two shared a half-second of eye contact before the Catian pointedly glanced away. Whatever excitement occurring wasn't her business, after all.

Spotting the Dwarf on the other side of the street, Mike gave chase. The Dwarf sped down another narrow alleyway, coming to a wall against the tall towers of a plastics factory. He stopped short, turning around with simmering anger to face the Human who had blocked off his escape.

"You... diminutive... little hustler." Mike said, out of breath. He braced against his thighs with his hands as he tried to reclaim it. "-So help me, by Heruen's holy asscrack we're going to talk about that... delivery."

"You lost my nest egg, you halfwit!" The Dwarf bellowed, "Six decades of work, and you ruined me in a weekend! That was to be the last delivery before I jettisoned from this cesspit of pointy-eared ponces!"

"Yeah?" Mike said, "But at least you can still leave."

There was a whirring sound, Mike turned to see a hover car descending from above. He looked up, spotting Allynna in the driver's seat, with Lashvara riding shotgun next to her. He waved at them as they settled onto the ground, blocking off the alleyway. Fignet grumbled but kept his back to the wall.

Allynna emerged first, hurrying over to where Mike stood, a bit scuffed up but alive. She spared him a quick once-over.

"We snatched a car once we were outside the club. Are you all right?" She asked, her empty voice concealing all concern behind a veneer of professionalism. Mike nodded. "...That was very reckless, Captain."

"Later, Aly." Mike said, peeling the gun from her grasp and training it on Fignet. Lashvara walked up to them.

"So you managed to keep yourself in one piece and catch the Dwarf!" The Orc pronounced, a wry grin growing on her face. "Well done, smuggler."

Mike didn't reply. His undivided attention upon Fignet. He faced the curmudgeonly Dwarf, standing frozen like a fly encircled by a spider web. Mike thumbed the safety off and pointed the barrel at his head.

"Now," Mike said, flashing a humorless grin through gritted teeth, "let's talk about that 'package.'"

"Mike-" Lashvara said, extending a hand.

He ignored her, striding up to Fignet and placing the barrel of the gun directly against his head. Fignet backpedaled till he was against the wall.

"Who paid you to steal the Orc's generator, huh? Who's the dumb son of a bitch who decided to get my ship shot down over an Orcish moon?"

The Dwarf was silent, staring directly into Mike's eyes with a stoic firmness as the barrel pressed against his forehead. Mike's finger caressed the trigger. He readied himself for the sound of-

"Enough of this!" The Orc barked. She reached out, taking hold of Mike's gun hand, yanking the weapon free from his fingers. "Have you no mercy in your heart?"

"Have you no sense, you stuck up bitch?!" Mike shouted, reaching again for the gun. Lashvara growled, yanking him out of the way by his jacket and casting him back towards the entrance of the alley. The Orc put her broad torso between him and Fignet.

"You wield violence like the artless cudgel it is." She snarled, "There is a time and a place for brutality to be certain..." Lashvara cast her gaze behind her, glaring down at the defeated Dwarf. "But that comes later. When all other options are exhausted."

"Chromium plated," Mike said, "Tri-shielded, customized Aenil-Class Freighter with a gauss cannon on top! It had the speed of a starfighter, and the hitting power of a corvette.That Dwarf owes me more than your entire mud-hut village is worth!"

"He owes us far more. As you well know." Lashvara said in a quiet voice, casting aside the pistol so that it spun into the gutter. She turned her baleful gaze upon Fignet. "You spoke of having a code, Dwarf. Well here is mine: I do not want to hurt you. The last thing I desire is for bloodshed." She took him by the scruff of his shirt and lifted him off the ground, sticking her nose in his face. "-But if you don't start talking, I will do what is necessary to protect my people."

"You're bluffing." The Dwarf said, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

Lashvara huffed, setting him down to the ground and taking a step back from him. Her left hand began to shake in almost ritualistic fashion. She took hold of the small mushroom dangling from her neck and cupped it to her face, praying once more to it. When Lass opened her eyes, her face was filled with a sort of serene clarity.

She looked into Fignet's eyes, and saw.

"Allow me to ask a simple question first." Lashvara said, "Are you currently employed by Maeles Aelor?"

Fignet, his back against the wall, toyed with the ring on his pinkie. "Aye. Amongst other sources of income."

"Like what?"

Fignet's face was like stone. "A Dwarf needs multiple jobs to keep him busy. You speks spend half your life unconscious, and the other half wasting the precious hours of your life. I run my nightclub, I own a private shipping company, and I moonlight as an executive for Maeles Aelor."

Lashvara smiled. "You're doing well so far."

"I've met your kind before, lass. I know what to expect."

"It's Lashvara." She said, her brow tightening. "And I doubt very much you've ever met an Orc like me. I want to know who in your company gave you the order to receive a Mark 315 Shield Generator, and where it was transferred from."

Fignet shrugged, "Same as anything else that comes through at Maeles Aelor: through a work order from the Planetary Director of Shipping. If you're looking to file a grievance with the company, take it up with him."

"You lie." The Orc said. It was not an accusation, merely a calm statement of fact. "This was not that kind of situation. Your heartbeat would not quicken so, if it were. It was special; you were involved."

Fignet pressed his lips together, his amber eyes staring daggers at Lashvara. The Dwarf shifted back and forth on his stumpy legs.

"Silence will not spare you, Dwarf." Lashvara remarked, "Only prolong the inevitable."

"You're a freak." He spat back in her face.

The Orc paused. She leaned forward, affixing Fignet with a wry smirk. "My people call me something similar. Your 'freelancers' think I'm either a fool or a madwoman. Almost every soul I've met in my lifetime has felt that I am in some way askew, twisted and bent out of shape."

Her hands settled upon Fignet's shoulders. The Dwarf moved to sweep them off of him, but Lashvara held firm, her knuckles clenching. "-But in truth, I am none of these things. And to you I am even less than that: all I want is to know who had cause to steal from my people. Once I have that answer, you never have to see my face again."

The Dwarf seemed unimpressed. "It's not you whom I fear to meet again."

"Then who?"

Fignet did not answer, he toyed with the rings on his fingers. Lashvara stared hard into his eyes.

"You are honestly afraid of them, aren't you? They must be powerful, these friends of yours. For a man of influence such as yourself to be so concerned is no easy feat. But who on this planet has the power to do this?"

To Mike's surprise, Allynna spoke. "There are few factions that exist upon the planet of Charity that could wield the kind of power you are saying he's afraid of."

"Ukavar." The Orc corrected Aly over her shoulder. "For the last time: this planet's name is Ukavar."

"Yes." Allynna said, refusing to correct herself. "Given his underworld connections, and his insistence on the 'legality' of his personal ownership of the Shield Generator in question, it stands to reason that whomever he is working for manipulated either Maeles Aelor, or the Governor himself into changing the delivery's flight path."

"Wrong on all counts, Elf." Fignet retorted.

Lass glanced back at Allynna, then refocused upon Fignet. "I... think not. Or at least, not entirely. Something in her words made your stomach lurch. Who on this planet could possibly have the kind of influence necessary to scam an Elven Weapons company?"

Mike, perched upon the front bumper of the hovercar that Aly and Lass had rode in on, piped up. "There's only so many criminal organizations with the kind of money you're talking about working in this sector of space." He counted them off on his fingers, "The Catian Cartels, a few of the Human Freebooters, The Loupian Mafia, potentially an Elven Weapons company owned by a rival House, or maybe even some of the Fae's Conglomerates... although I doubt that they'd have the-"

"Wait." Lass said, staring hard into Fignet's eyes. "Go back. There was something there."

"Um," Mike said, "The Human Freebooters, the Loupian Mafi-"

"There!" Lass roared, as if she had just slain an evenly matched foe in honorable combat. "The Loupian Mafia! What is it about those words that pales your cheeks so, Dwarf?"

"Nothing." The Dwarf muttered.

"Liar!" Lass said, the sound of triumph in her voice. "They are involved in this, yes? Why? How? Where can we find them?"

"You've got an Ogre's brain and a Troll's breath, you odious green hag." The Dwarf retorted, shoving at her. Lass, flush with victory, simply held Fignet in place.

"Flattery will get you nowhere." She said, smirking. "Where is your contact in the Loupian Mafia?"

"At the bottom of a Black Hole." Fignet replied.

"They are here." Lass continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I can practically smell it on you. You know where they are: take us to them!"

From his spot on the front of the car, Mike snorted. "I wouldn't suggest that, Lass."

Lashvara gave a dismissive snarl over her shoulder in his direction. "Your opinion on the subject is not what interests me at this moment, smuggler."

"If what he's - er, 'saying' is true, this isn't playing gumshoe detective with small-time crooks, anymore." He said, staring at his hand as the liquid metal rolled across his wrist. He shifted his gesture every few seconds to keep the feeling in his fingers. "If your mind-games have really keyed in to the fact that the Loupians are behind this, best to drop the issue and take the Shield Generator as a loss. They're bad news."

"They're our only lead." Lashvara refocused her attention upon Fignet, looming over him with her bulk. "And you will take us to them."

"I'd sooner step into a leaking airlock." Fignet said.

"I have a ship docked, fueled and ready for takeoff." Lashvara replied, "That wish can be granted."

"Are you that ready to die today, Orc?" The Dwarf said, straightening his back as he stared her directly in the eye.

"All living things pass from this world." She replied, her brown eyes gleaming. "Time does not measure the worth of one's existence. If today is to be that day for me, then I shall gladly walk the fields of Borkea with my ancestors."

The Dwarf and the Orc stared at one another for another, agonizing stretch. Something in Fignet's expression broke.

"...I'll contact the Veiled One." The Dwarf muttered, "Set up a sit down for you. But on one condition."

"Anything." The Orc replied, perhaps a bit too hastily.

"I am not coming along with you." Fignet said, "You may, by some miracle of discretion convince her that you are not there to rob from her, scam her, report her to the authorities, or otherwise inconvenience her operations on Charity-"

"Ukavar."

"But I won't be there to be a patsy in the fallout." Fignet said, "As it is, my days on this planet are numbered. You have ruined both my club, my work at Maeles Aelor, and now my Loupian contacts. I do not intend to spend my venerable years dissolving in a drum of acid."

"Done." Lass said, ignoring Mike's protests as he tried to talk over her. "The moment we know the meeting is serious, you are free to leave."

"You have got to be kid-" Mike began.

"The transaction is agreed to." Fignet said, "A verbal contract is a contract nonetheless. I'll keep my end of the bargain, Orc. But you had best keep yours."

"I always do." Lass said, letting go of Fignet's shoulders and stepping away from him. "You have my word that no harm shall come to you until the deal is done."

Fignet laughed, a spiteful, gravelly sound that rumbled up from his belly. "You won't have to wait long. I was supposed to see the Veiled One myself an hour ago. No doubt she'll be eager to hear from me."

"Yeah, and the scapegoats you found to take the heat." Mike said, shaking his head back and forth. He looked at Lashvara. "We're not going along with this."

Lass stalked up to him, her heavy footsteps propelling her forward till she was face to face with the smuggler. She looked down her snout at him.

"You will." She said in her raspy tone. "If you know what's good for you."

Mike remained undaunted. He leaned back on the hood of the car, affecting a careless posture. "You might be a fan of having excess lead injected directly into your cranium, but my first mate and I aren't walking into the den of a Criminal Organization just cause you've got a pair of electric cuffs clamped on us."

"You don't have much of a say in the matter. Your debt remains unpaid; my answers remain as elusive as they ever were." Lashvara folded her arms, "But we are close. I can practically smell it. These moral degenerates will give us what we need."

"They'll give us unmarked graves in an empty field." Mike countered, "I'm not bringing Allynna into that place."

"This is happening, Smuggler. I do not have the foreknowledge that you do with regards to the Loupian Mafia. I need your wits with me when we confront this 'Veiled One.'"

Mike stared hard into the Orc's brown eyes. He hopped off the car, standing to his full height as he squared his shoulders before the larger Alien. "I said we're not going."

"You are determined to make this difficult, aren't you?" Lashvara said, sounding bemused.

"You want to use that collar of yours?" Mike said, fingering the metal band around his wrist. "Do it then. Turn us into a pair of jerking bodies on the ground, see how useful we are to you, then."

"I need advisors, not enemies." The Orc replied, she reached out, putting a hand upon Mike's shoulder. "You owe my people a debt, but I am not blind to your efforts. You went above and beyond your duty when you chased the Dwarf down. I can respect that, regardless of the blundering, unintentional muddle it all turned out to be."

Mike scowled, shrugging her hand off his shoulder, "There's literally nothing you can say to me that would make me agree to go with you on this fool's errand."

The Orc grinned, "Not even if I offer to replace your lost ship?"

Mike held fast to her eyes for several moments. He stole a glance at Allynna for a moment before darting back to the Orc.

Mike's brow lowered. He clucked his tongue and glanced away, unable to meet Lashvara's smiling eyes.

"...I'm listening."