The Star Cross Page 16

  “Profiteer Grantz has directed that I take you and your people to the complex of buildings you have leased in the dome,” the driver said nonchalantly.

  “Yes,” Kurt replied. “I have a meeting scheduled there shortly.”

  The driver nodded, and the vehicle started moving. Kurt was amazed at how quiet it was. Even the air in the vehicle had none of the foul smells associated with the spaceport and the smog.

  “The air smells better in here,” Sergeant Jones commented.

  “Yes,” the driver responded. “All these new hydrogen-powered vehicles have an air-filtration system installed that cleans out the impurities. The vehicles also injects clean air back outside.”

  -

  As they drove through the outskirts of the capital, Kurt looked at the busy and crowded streets. There were vehicles of every type imaginable. Hydrogen-powered vehicles, several different electric-powered cars, and even a few of the old-style combustion engine varieties. Many people walked, and the sidewalks were as crowded as the ones in New York City. It was obvious from the condition of the older vehicles that the poorer citizens were dependent on them. There was some public transportation. Huge lumbering vehicles resembling buses rumbled up and down the streets. Kurt wasn’t sure how they were powered.

  On the crowded sidewalks, human species from dozens of different planets were evident. They were garbed in colorful to dull-looking outfits. Even from the inside of the vehicle, he could see people haggling and money passing from hand to hand. The numerous shops had advertisements in the windows, just like the stores back on Earth. One thing that Kurt found disturbing was the number of guns people wore on their hips.

  They had just turned down a less crowded street and were nearing one of the large entrances to the dome when the driver slowed down and stopped.

  “What is it?” asked Kurt, leaning forward and looking ahead. He couldn’t see anything other than more stopped vehicles.

  “Must be an accident,” the driver replied, as he gazed up ahead to see what was holding up traffic. “They happen quite regularly.”

  Kurt’s response was cut off when an explosion rocked their vehicle. He was flung hard against the door and had the breath knocked out of him.

  “We’re under attack!” yelled Sergeant Jones, as he struggled to free his 9mm pistol. “That was an explosive round!”

  Several more explosions rang out, shaking the vehicle, with the last knocking it on its side. Kurt could smell something burning and was fearful the vehicle was on fire. He coughed several times from the black smoke slowly filling up the interior. Looking up front, he saw the driver was unconscious.

  “We need to abandon this vehicle,” Kurt said, struggling to sit up. They were sitting ducks inside and helpless to defend themselves. They needed a better tactical location.

  One of the other Marines stood up, managed to fling open the door, and crawled free. A shot rang out, and the young Marine slid back into the vehicle with a startled look on his face. Kurt felt ill seeing the bullet hole between his eyes and the red blood running down his face.

  “Stay down,” ordered Sergeant Jones, as he activated his comm gear to speak to the Marines in the vehicle behind them. “Corporal Evans, what’s your status?”

  “We’re outside the vehicle, but we’re pinned down. A couple snipers are on the roof of the tall building on the right side of the street. They’re out of range of our pistols. I wish we had our assault rifles.”

  “Just a moment,” Jones said. He turned to the other Marine, who reached under his shirt and pulled out the long barrel of a weapon. Jones rolled over the dead Marine and removed several gun parts from his clothing as well. Looking at Kurt guiltily, he took a few items from his uniform also. “I know we were told pistols only, but I didn’t trust the situation down here. There are just too many guns.”

  “Corporal Evans, I’ll take out the snipers. When I do, get your butts over here to help cover the admiral.” Jones quickly assembled the weapon and loaded a large diameter clip into it, slamming it home.

  “We’re ready,” Evans answered back.

  “I’ll stand to take out the snipers,” said Jones, drawing in a deep breath, looking at the admiral and the other Marine. “As soon as I do, we need to exit this vehicle. They attacked us for some reason.” He looked at Kurt with concern. “They may be after you, Admiral.”

  “Get it done,” Kurt ordered, wondering where the Enforcers were. They had to have heard all the gunfire and explosions.

  Jones took another deep breath, and then suddenly rose up and fired two explosive shells at the tall building just to the right of the turned-over vehicle. Several figures with long-barreled weapons stood on top of it. The building was about ten stories high, and two explosions, much more powerful than a grenade, suddenly rocked its roof. Debris fell, hitting the street among the screaming people still trying to find cover. A body made a loud thump as it hit the sidewalk from where one of the snipers had been blown off the building.

  “Got ’em!” Jones said, as he searched for more targets. “At least I think I did.” He looked down at the admiral. “Let’s go.” With that the sergeant pulled himself out and slid off the vehicle. Kurt and the other Marine quickly followed.

  “Over here, sir,” yelled Corporal Evans.

  Kurt turned toward the voice and found the corporal, his two Marines, and their vehicle’s driver standing behind a large truck. Kurt hurried over to the corporal, pulling his pistol from its holster. He flipped off the safety and, glancing down, quickly chambered a round.

  “How many more are there?” asked Sergeant Jones, as he assessed the situation.

  “Not sure,” Evans answered. He peered around the truck and then ducked back as several light blue energy beams impacted the street near him.

  “At least four or five more,” he said breathlessly. “The two snipers on the roof were armed with projectile weapons and the explosive rounds they used to immobilize your vehicle. The rest are armed with some type of energy weapons.”

  “Where are those damn Enforcers?” muttered Private Dulcet. She was holding her pistol with both hands, occasionally peeking around the corner of the truck for a target.

  “Can your comm unit reach the shuttle?” asked Kurt, realizing they were in a bad situation. The pilot and two more Marines were still there.

  “No,” answered Jones, shaking his head. “Too many buildings, plus all the local comm channels block our communications after a short distance. We’re on our own.”

  Kurt was about to say something else when a number of small canisters fell around them, and gray smoke poured forth.

  “Gas!” screamed Private Dulcet, as she glanced at Sergeant Jones with a terror-stricken look on her face and then collapsed.

  Before Kurt could say anything, he felt dizzy, and then blackness clamped down on his senses.

  -

  Kurt opened his eyes to the sound of strange voices. He lay on the sidewalk still behind the large truck. His head was throbbing, and everything seemed to be spinning.

  “Are you all right?” a woman asked. She was wearing a brightly colored blouse and very tight pants.

  “Just dizzy and my head is pounding,” Kurt said, as he struggled to sit up. With his right hand, he rubbed his forehead. “What happened?”

  “The Enforcers are still checking into that,” the woman said. “I’m Keera Jelk, and I work at one of the medical centers here on Kubitz.”

  “You look human,” Kurt said, as he more closely studied the young woman. She seemed to be in her late twenties with dark hair and a fair complexion.

  “I am,” she said with a laugh. “Approximately 44 percent of the humanoid races come from the same genetic stock as you do. How that happened is open to speculation. Many say some type of Supreme Being did it, and others claim a very advanced race in the distant past seeded many worlds with the same or similar species. Many others—such as the Enforcers, the Profiteers, and even the Dacroni—are closely related.”


  “What about the Controllers?”

  “Them too,” admitted Keera with a grimace.

  “How are the people who were with me?”

  “Fine,” Keera answered, as she glanced where a few other medical personnel were treating the other humans. “You were struck with some type of knockout gas. Probably V-14, which is one of the more common ones used in hits.”

  “Hits?” mumbled Kurt, as he stood up and swayed slightly on his feet. “Are those very common?” He was anxious to check on the rest of his people.

  “In this part of the city, yes,” replied Keera, her voice sounding aggravated. “Inside the dome very seldom. You should have been traveling with a larger security force. Out here, the Enforcers never seem to show up in time, at least not until someone has died.”

  Kurt could hear Sergeant Jones’s voice, and he didn’t sound pleased.

  The sergeant was talking heatedly to one of the Lylan Enforcers, gesturing toward his Marines. With an angry look on his face, he turned and walked over to Kurt. “Private Dulcet is missing,” he announced grimly. “The Enforcers have found no signs of her or of the snipers we blew off the building.”

  “Who did the snipers look like to you?”

  “Dacroni mercenaries!” stated Jones emphatically. “They were very muscular and had on dark gray battle armor, just as Grantz described.”

  “One of your people is missing?” asked Keera with concern in her voice. She looked around but saw no sign of the missing human.

  “It looks that way,” replied Kurt, growing concerned. How the hell was he going to find his missing Marine on this planet? If she was still even on the planet.

  “They may be holding her for ransom,” suggested Keera, shifting her attention back to Kurt. “If they are, they’ll be contacting you shortly to arrange for an exchange. It happens pretty regularly here.”

  “The driver of the other vehicle has arranged for additional transportation,” reported Sergeant Jones, his eyes looking nervously at the curious crowd that had gathered.

  “I have some questions,” a large Lylan Enforcer said, walking up to Kurt. “That tall building was damaged by explosives, which are illegal in the city, and the owner is demanding payment.”

  “It wasn’t us,” answered Kurt, seeing that Sergeant Jones’s weapon was strangely absent. “It must have been the people who attacked us.”

  The Enforcer took out a computer tablet and entered some information. “We found no bodies are any signs of blood. If anyone was injured in this incident, they did a good job of cleaning it up. From speaking to Sergeant Jones, he indicated that one of your security people is missing. If you can provide a description, it will be downloaded to the tablets of the other Enforcers, and, if she is spotted, you will be notified.”

  Kurt nodded; he didn’t know what else he could do. He needed to talk to Grantz or Dolman. Between him and Sergeant Jones, they managed to give the Enforcer the information he requested.

  “There is also the matter of a fine,” the Enforcer continued. “Fighting in the city streets and the damage that occurred is illegal. The owner of the building is demanding restitution.”

  “We didn’t initiate the fight,” Kurt said firmly.

  “Doesn’t matter,” answered the Enforcer. “You were part of what happened, and, as the only party still here, you are liable for the damages.”

  Before Kurt could say anything else, Keera put her hand on his arm.

  “These people have been subjected to V-14 gas, which is also against Kubitz law. I would ask that the fine be reduced, due to extenuating circumstances.”

  The Enforcer eyed Keera for a moment and then nodded his head. “Twenty thousand credits,” he announced. He entered some information on his computer pad and then handed it to Kurt. “I need your thumbprint, plus your Controller computer card, to make payment.”

  Kurt pressed his thumb against the tablet and handed the Enforcer the card. Moments later the Enforcer returned it and walked off.

  “Thanks,” Kurt said, turning to Keera. “Could I talk you into coming to our embassy? I have some questions I’d like to ask about what goes on here on Kubitz. The more I’m here, the more confused I get.”

  “The hellhole of the galaxy,” Keera replied with a grin. “My shift is over, so I have the time. It will cost you though.”

  Here it comes, thought Kurt. She’ll demand money for treating me and answering questions. Was everyone on this barbaric planet the same?

  “A nice meal would be greatly appreciated,” she said in a pleasant voice.

  Kurt tried not to show his surprise. “I think that can be arranged.”

  -

  A few minutes later, they were on their way to the embassy in new and better-armored vehicles. Kurt guessed, from the armed guards who were in the vehicles with them, that Dolman had made the arrangements. Kurt wondered how much this would cost. Once at the embassy he would contact the Star Cross and inform Captain Randson of what happened. Somehow or another he had to find Private Dulcet. He wasn’t leaving her in the hands of her captors.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kurt watched with interest as they pulled up to the new embassy compound. It contained one large building and half a dozen smaller ones. It was surrounded by a five-meter wall with two guarded entrances. One of the things they had discussed doing was modifying several of the satellite buildings into dormitory like structures to house any humans who were brought to Kubitz to be sold in the slave auctions. Kurt still found it revolting to think that, even on civilized worlds, people could be sold into slavery. However, from what Grantz had patiently explained, most of the jobs were for some type of household servant.

  “How long have you been on Kubitz?” asked Kurt, looking over at Keera, sitting next to him in the vehicle.

  “Six years,” she responded. “My brother came here to do business, and we ended up staying. I had just passed my final medical exam and was offered quite a lucrative contract to stay on here in one of the larger medical centers.”

  Before Kurt could say anything else, the vehicles came to a stop, and he was surprised to see both Grantz and Dolman standing at the entrance to the main building. He wanted to talk to them about finding his missing Marine.

  “Avery Dolman,” muttered Keera unhappily, gazing at the man. “How did you fall in with him?”

  “Profiteer Grantz introduced us,” Kurt answered, as they left the vehicle. “Is there a problem?” He wondered how she knew Dolman.

  “Not really,” responded Keera, shrugging her shoulders. “Just watch him. He runs a large protection agency and is rumored to be heavily involved in the black market. Make sure anything you do with him is under contract with every detail spelled out.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Kurt said, as they walked up the steps where Dolman and Grantz waited.

  “I’m glad to see you’re all right,” Grantz said. “I was concerned when I heard your vehicles had been hit.”

  “I’m sure you were,” answered Kurt, knowing Grantz was probably more worried about his next payment of gold.

  “The Dacroni from the battleship in orbit hit you,” Dolman said evenly. His gaze shifted to Keera and then back to Kurt. “They sent down two groups of mercenaries with orders to kidnap one of your people. They seem to be highly interested in what’s in that cargo ship that’s staying close to your battlecruiser.”

  “How do you know all that?” demanded Kurt. The Enforcers hadn’t indicated any connection with the orbiting Dacroni ship.

  “Let’s just say, I have my sources,” Dolman replied noncommittally.

  “Where’s Private Dulcet now?” asked Kurt, growing deeply concerned, since it seemed this was more than a mere kidnapping for ransom. “Is there any way we can rescue her?”

  “Two Dacroni shuttles left the spaceport shortly after the attack,” Dolman answered. “From my source, Private Dulcet was on one of the shuttles. Once she’s on their battleship that will put her effectively beyond our reach.”

/>   Kurt wasn’t pleased with this news. From what he had been told, it would be tantamount to suicide to attempt to launch an attack against the Dacroni battleship. The Kubitz defense grid would activate and take out all the attacking ships.

  “How do we get her back?”

  “You don’t,” Grantz said, his eyes shifting suspiciously to Keera. “Who is this woman with you?”

  “She’s a doctor who helped us after the attack,” Kurt answered, his mind still on private Dulcet. “I asked her to come to the embassy for a meal to show my gratitude for her assistance. Is there any type of deal we can make with the Dacroni?”

  Dolman frowned and slowly shook his head. “I doubt it. I’ll make some inquiries and see what’s out there. If I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up of ever seeing Private Dulcet again.”

  -

  Several hours passed, and Kurt met with a number of people in the business of selling weapons on Kubitz. A Controller was also at the table, in case his services were needed. Neither Grantz nor Dolman had been allowed to attend this particularly meeting, as Kurt didn’t really want them to know what he was up to. He had brought along Lieutenant Tenner, so he could become more familiar with how things were done on Kubitz. It would probably be a learning experience for both of them.

  “I understand you want to procure some high-tech weapon systems,” said Lomatz, who was the chief negotiator for one of the military weapons firms that worked directly for the Kubitz government. Lomatz looked nearly human, except his eyes had a yellow tint to them.

  Kurt nodded. Most of the people in the room were from Kubitz. “Yes, we’re interested in procuring a defense grid to put around our planet.”

  Lomatz frowned and called up some information on a small computer tablet he had with him. “I understand your home world has been taken by Profiteer Creed, and he has hired some Dacroni mercenaries to help maintain control of the planet. As long as the Dacroni battleships are in orbit, it will be impossible to emplace a defense system.”

  “We also have a colony world,” explained Lieutenant Tenner. “The defense grid is to ensure the safety of that world.”