“Do you have any more weapons, Hauser?” Reynard remains unsure how far he’s willing to trust this man on Maxtin’s payroll. Nothing the Admiral has been doing seems trustworthy. Assassination, spying—the entire gamut of espionage makes his stomach uneasy. It may be the world he has been brought into, but he can find more honorable ways to bring out the Mokarran defeat.
“It took all I had to get this one inside,” he says as he pats his blaster. “But you shouldn’t need any to march out the front door.”
“We have to find Amye and Scott.” JC points at the cadets. “Won’t those two spark interest when they check out?”
“We get our guns back and leave. It shouldn’t be difficult to fight our way from the entrance back to the Dragon.”
“Not much of a plan,” Hauser sneers.
“I’m open to suggestions.”
Hauser adds nothing.
JC finally breaks the silence, “Amye and Scott will improve our firepower if we have to blast our way out for the entrance.”
“Joe, find them. Send them to the entrance.” Reynard says to Hauser, “You stay with the cadets. Cover them if they aren’t allowed through.”
“Front door or a shootout. Osirian simplicity.”
“Are you going with us, or do you have your own ship?”
“I’ve my own ship.”
••••••
THE CASINO ENTRANCE foyer falls silent for a full second. A dozen Braeco’n warriors eject energy clips from their weapons and slam in fresh ones. The charging hums break the quiet as do the emergency alarms. Blast smoke, burnt ozone, and cooked paint from blaster scorches on the wall fill the chamber with an unbreathable haze.
Dead Aurulent attendants are strewn about the floor.
Questions dance in Reynard’s head.
He spots Hauser in the casino. Weapon drawn, he shields the cadets. Reynard tries to strategize how to escape. Why are the Braeco’n here and shooting at me? Logic would dictate somehow I offended… How? If the crew did make offense, the list of possible turncoats on the crew narrows to Scott, Ki-Ton, or Amye. Valuable information if he lives long enough to utilize it in his investigation.
Reynard scopes out the tiny window opposite his spot of cover. Casino security will swarm the entrance soon enough.
He tucks in next to JC. “I need my gun out of that room. Any suggestions?”
“I’d say a mad dash across the room wouldn’t end well.”
“No cover.” Reynard pops up empty hands in the air.
The Braeco’n take aim, but none of their weapons have enough charge to fire.
“Youshon would not permit this.”
The biggest Braeco’n lowers his weapon, “You brought him defective weapons. You knew they’d explode after three blasts. Now you die! We kill Admiral Maxtin next for your deception.” His weapon rises.
Reynard dives for the window.
Plasma bolts fill the chamber.
Chunks of the wall crack.
The Braeco’ns disperse to secure the room.
So the traitor framed us first with the IMC rifles. Narrows down my list of suspects. Reynard contemplates. He notes the wall under the window could be damaged enough to make a hole if he could last under another barrage of plasma. He doubts it.
JC leaps to her feet and waves her arms. The mental blast causes two seconds of turbulence in the Braeco’ns’ minds, giving her and the Commander a chance to dive back into the casino.
Splintered gambling machines send showers of credit chits smattering everywhere as super-heated plasma impales them. Surprisingly, many of the patrons refuse to scatter. Instead, they scoop up the ill-gotten earnings. Several are cut down in the process of greed.
Hauser moves the cadets back.
JC collapses from the weight of the mental burst. The Braeco’ns march past her, unconcerned with a crew member they don’t know. They hunger for Reynard.
Reynard plots to get back to the room of weapons. He could attempt to disarm a Braeco’n. They are too tightly bunched together for him to take one out.
The carpeted floor has no under padding as Reynard lands hard a quarter of second before plasma bolts fragment chunks of a gambling computer. He covers his ears as credit chits rain down around him. Unable to return fire, he attempts to rescue his hearing.
Plugging his ears he realizes the blast was not from Braeco’n weapons. Instead, at the entrance, five Halcary Headhunters fan out. Bounty killers here to collect on Hauser. They blast Braeco’ns who return fire on the Halcary.
The hum of their rifles echoes around the chamber, deafening the howling screams of the Tibbar in pursuit of the Commander. He digs his heel against the smooth floor to initiate a stop-and-jerk twist to use his momentum to accelerate and land at the weapons receiving window. Energy balls smash into the wall above him.
Alarms scream.
Replacing Reynard’s moment of reprieve is the crunching of a slot machine collapsing under the weight of a seven-hundred pound Tibbar landing on it. Credit chits cover Reynard, which shields him from the lizard bite. The creature crunches down on the metal ingots instead of flesh.
The Halcary and Tibbar hunt the bounty.
The Braeco’n demand revenge.
Reynard desires his magnum.
Hauser fires on the Tibbar. The weapon does little to harm the creature’s hide. It gives the Commander a distraction. He bolts from between the gambling machines.
Mark and Leahla scramble further into the casino.
Halcary and Braeco’n plasma bolts chase after Reynard as he dives behind Hauser.
“Where the hell’s casino security?”
“They aren’t used to dealing with guns.” Hauser yanks Reynard to his feet and they bolt.
“We won’t last long without guns, either.” Reynard peeks from their current position of cover to witness the Braeco’n and Halcary turn their weapons on each other.
Confusion allows Doug to slip inside the casino with a weapon still on his
