“And what’s all this pay?” Nixon asks.
“Five thousand.”
Nixon hesitates. “Excuse me?”
“Five thousand. I’m getting fifteen thousand total. Keeping ten of it for me. You understand.”
Nixon is still mostly speechless. “Five thousand,” he finally says again. “So what’s in the case that makes getting it somewhere else worth fifteen thousand credits to someone?”
“I don’t know what’s inside. It’s pretty well sealed. It’s not coming open without some kind of digital key.”
Nixon doesn’t understand. “You agreed to move this box for fifteen thousand credits and you didn’t ask what’s inside?”
“I don’t … I can’t … The people I tend to work with don’t like a lot of questions.”
“I get that, but still … fifteen thousand credits.”
Shaine leans forward and says in a whispered voice: “I need you to take this one. I need someone I can trust handling it. And I trust you.”
“It’s a lot of credits, but you aren’t really selling it.”
“It’s a lot of credits, and I know we can get the box to Planet Azken on time. But if we don’t, it’s not just the credits that are lost.”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s Mira. And the girls.” Shaine stands and paces a tight circle. “It’s Mira and the girls. If the case isn’t delivered they’ve said they’ll …”
“Who’s said they’ll what, Shaine? Who are you working with?”
Shaine doesn’t get the chance to answer. Blaster fire sizzles past Nixon’s ear and hits Shaine in the shoulder. It spins him to the ground.
Nixon turns to see who’s firing and pulls the Uzek blaster from his waistband. He gets off two wild shots that don’t hit anything but do give him time to duck behind the table, putting it between himself and their new visitors.
“The case!” Shaine shouts. “Grab the case!”
A blaster shot hits the table and it explodes in a shower of splinters. The case flies a dozen feet away.
Nixon looks toward Shaine. “You have the address,” Shaine says. “Get the case and go. For Mira. My girls.”
The air crackles, and blaster fire peels the paver tiles from the ground in front of Nixon.
“Please,” Shaine says.
Nixon sprints to the case and scoops it up in a single motion then heads for the opening that’s opposite the one he came in. He fires wild over his shoulder and the fire from the other side stops momentarily.
He dives through the opening and finds a safe spot behind a wall. He pokes his head around the corner, ready to fire. Ready to set the case down and go help Shaine. Blasts from the other side of the courtyard blow apart huge chunks of the wall near him. He pulls his head back around the corner, but not before he sees blaster fire tear his friend in two.
05
Nixon grabs the case off the ground again and sprints away from the courtyard. He doesn’t know where he is. These are all tight alleys and small streets that he’s never seen, so all of his turns are serving only to confuse him more. But, at least for now, he’s not worried about confusion. He just doesn’t want to hear any more blaster fire burn by his ears. He doesn’t want to get hit in the back by a six-inch laser slug and look down just in time to see it burn it’s way out of his chest and through his cloak.
So he runs for a few minutes more until he gets to some deep-set doorway and stops.
This is the first time he’s been able to think about what just happened. He doesn’t know enough to think much. The one thing he does know is that the people on the other end of those blasters weren’t Uzeks. They weren’t Snapsits either. They were humans, like him and like Shaine.
“He’s dead, right?” He asks no one.
Then he sees it again—three blasts hitting Shaine across the torso. His body bouncing as each shot ripped through him. Then the last shot tearing through flesh and bone and … He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.
He sets the case down and then finds a spot on the ground beside it. He’s breathing heavy. He hasn’t recovered from being chased by the Uzeks the day before, and everything hurts, especially his nose.
He thinks about leaving the case here. Catching his breath then getting up and walking away. Leave whatever trouble it’s going to bring with it in that doorway.
“Sorry, Shaine,” he says to himself. “Whatever trouble you’re in Mira’s going to have to find her own way out of it.”
But he doesn’t mean it. He’s not going to do that to Mira. Mostly, he’s not going to do that to Shaine.
He stands, still sucking air like someone is going to take it from him, and racks his brain for the stall number at the starport that Shaine mentioned.
Six something.
Six ...
Six …
“Come on, brain.”
Twenty eight.
Six twenty eight.
“That’s it.”
Nixon steps from the protection of the doorway, blaster up and still inside his cloak. These streets are narrow and the buildings all look the same, one long and low profile structure after the other.
He knows he needs to get to the space port. He turns a circle in the middle of the street looking for the towers that are under construction. Their ragged tops reach above the rooftops behind him and he starts in that direction.
He keeps the Uzek blaster in his hand, two fingers resting lightly on the trigger. Shaine’s case is in his other hand and tucked under his arm. First light has come
