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(Chapters 1 – 4 By EleCivil and Ryan Miller)
It was a dull and quiet cab ride back to Marineris. Hawke sat in the back seat with Seth, absently fidgeting with his steel lighter and staring out the window at the pale blue expanse of sky over the craggy Martian desert.
Two kids in army surplus spacesuits were wind-surfing up and down the curved walls of a large crater beside the highway, clinging to the triangular sails of their four-wheeled dust boards. Hawke scoffed at the irony of how those stuffy and claustrophobic “portable body bags” were now at the top of the Christmas list of nearly every teenager on Mars. It was just another fad, though the fads back in Hawke’s day didn't afford kids such an aptitude for suicide.
There had been one teenaged boy who went as far as to shoot the leg of his suit with his dad’s .22, thinking it would be cool to have one that looked battle-worn. When he stepped into the pressurizing dock to leave the city, there was no pressure in the suit to keep his blood from bursting out of every pore in his body. The attendants of the dock were able to bring him back in before the kid lost too much blood, but he lost his eyes and eardrums in the process. Now they have permits and safety checks for such things, but there’s no piece of paper that can keep a youth from finding inventive ways to kill himself.
Seth was asleep in the seat next to Hawke, his golden head leaning limply against the window. He had already failed in two attempts to enjoy a night’s sleep and wasn’t going to waste the third. Hawke was still pondering Seth’s display of strength and ruthlessness in Deidra’s apartment. The peaceful, innocent look on the sleeping boy’s face belied his lethal aptitude. There had been military programs in the past that trained and engineered boys like Seth to become super soldiers, though the boy was too young to have participated in any of them. Besides, with the way the government kept a tight leash on military experiments, it could never forgive itself if one slipped through the system.
But Hawke thought it best to ignore questions he had no answer for. He slipped his lighter back into his coat pocket and looked over at Seth, recalling what it felt like to cradle the warm body of a sleeping boy in his arms. Scott liked to cuddle – maybe more than people should – and Hawke missed that part of their relationship the most. Their affection was a constant reminder that they had been able to find someone to open up to and share life with. Seth didn’t look or act anything like Scott, but Hawke couldn’t bring himself to think about one without the other.
The cab drove through the checkpoint in the dome of Marineris and drove down a winding street through some high end neighborhoods that perched on the side of the canyon. It had stopped raining, but a heavy fog loomed over the city as puddles were heated up and reabsorbed by the clear blue bio-dome. The cab descended into the fog as it entered downtown Marineris and drove down Capital Street between highrises and skyscrapers. Hawke reached out his hand and gently shook Seth's shoulder.
“You watched me splinter someone’s arm with my bare hand and you think it’s a good idea to wake me up?” remarked Seth
“You’re cranky when you’re tired,” noted Hawke.
“I’ve had a rough night,” replied Seth. “How about you?”
“It’s not night any more, and we’re not in Olympus, either.”
Seth sat up and cracked his eyes open enough to look out the window. “This is Valles Marineris?”
“What? Were you expecting something different?
“Sure is foggy.”
“We just got done with three weeks of rain, and now the water is cycling itself back into the dome. But the cabbies here could find their way through downtown in a class three dust storm, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Not a class four?”
“In a class four, there would be nothing left of downtown to navigate.”
The cab pulled over next to a hotel a block down the street from Three Green Men. Hawke and Seth stepped out and Seth popped the collar of his denim jacket over his neck to keep the wet chill of the fog away while Hawke leaned over to pay the cabbie. The cab drove off into the mist and Hawke asked, “Have you ever been in a bar before?”
“Why would I?” asked Seth. “I’m only nineteen, and booze just tastes awful. I don’t understand how anybody can get drunk on that stuff.”
“Live a little longer and you’ll understand,” replied Hawke. “But we’re going to a bar to meet an old friend of mine and this place is known to be a little rough, so try to keep a low profile.”
“I think I’ll be fine,” said Seth, the way a kid insists he won’t shoot his eye out.
“I know you will,” said Hawke, “but I’m worried about the other patrons. Neither of us can afford to attract any attention to ourselves right now, so just shrug it off if some drunken idiot tries to pick a fight with you.”
“Alright,” agreed Seth. “But if anyone starts making passes at me, I’m breaking their nose.”
It was easy enough to get Seth through the door, the gruff-looking bouncer knowing better than to ask for ID. He had been in the bouncing business long enough to know when a customer would be a threat to the delicate balance of villainy inside the bar, and had been in too many scrapes to ask just any man for identification.
The two strode through the dim, crowded dining room with as much concision as they could past tables full of shady characters. Hawke thought Seth might be unnerved in a watering hole full of brainless hit men and mafia errand boys, all smelling like beer and cigarettes. But the steely blue in the teen’s eyes told Hawke he was cool and confident, confident that any fight he got into was going to end in a cracked skull, per thug.
Hawke sat down at the table by the space heater and turned his chair toward the red, glowing elements. Seth sat down across from him and shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets.
“When will your friend get here?” he asked.
“Soon,” replied Hawke. “He’s usually a little late, kind of absent-minded. He’s a mechanical engineer.”
“How is a mechanical engineer going to help us find out who is hunting me?” asked Seth.
“He owns a ship that can take us to Earth,” said Hawke. “The men who killed your father were Terrans, or at least they wore Terran uniforms. If we want to pick up their trail, we have to start on Earth.”
“Then why do we have to meet a pilot, and in a place like this?” asked Seth. “Can’t we just go buy tickets and fly out of a space port?”
“Space ports ask lots of questions,” replied Hawke. “So, unless you are a terribly good liar, we need a third party with clearance to travel to and from planets under government approval.”
“I don’t work for the government any more,” said a lively man who had snuck up behind Hawke. He was wearing a blue jumpsuit over a white undershirt, the blue sleeves tied down around his waist and on his hands were brown leather gloves covered in tool marks and grease stains. His short, blond hair was receding from the front and he had a small screwdriver/flashlight behind his ear. The man leaned down toward Seth, held his hand beside his mouth and in a mock whisper said, “But don’t tell them that.” He laughed jovially and slapped Hawke on the back. “It’s good to see you, Raven.”
“Good to see you too, Cid,” replied Hawke, not sounding nearly as elated as the mechanic.
Cid was about to sit down when a waitress walked by and he asked her for a round of drinks for him and his friends. Cid took a beer and so did Hawke while Seth asked for a virgin strawberry daiquiri.
“You’re keeping docile company these days, Raven,” said Cid, taking a seat between Seth and Hawke. “You finally get a new partner?”
“No, we just met last night,” replied Hawke. “It’s a long story, and one I don’t intend to share here.”
“I’ve been hearing around that you got yourself a new employer,” said Cid, “some young punk in the illegal arms business.”
“He’s a punk, alright. And, as of last night, we two are no longer associated.”
“Working for him now?” Cid nodded his head in Seth’s direction.
“It’s great how you act like I’m not even here,” remarked Seth.
“My sardonic companion’s name is Seth Boudoir,” said Hawke. “He’s a hit-turned-ally.”
“Sounds like one hell of a story you have to tell me,” replied Cid.
The waitress came back and handed the drinks out. Cid chugged his whole mug before saying anything else, the unnerving sounds of his engorging gullet speaking volumes to Seth. He wiped his mouth with his bare forearm before setting the empty mug on the table, asking, “So, what is so important that you drag me all the way down here? Hopefully not just beer and stories.”
“We need someone to take us to Earth who isn’t intent on interrogating us before we get there,” said Hawke.
“Does this have anything to do with the falling out you had with your boss?” asked Cid.
“My necessity for travel and my recent unemployment are both symptoms of the same problem.”
“How big is this problem?”
“Big enough to kill a dozen Factioners, one scientist, one and a half henchmen…and Deidra.”
Hawke’s last comment had the reaction he thought it would. Cid stared pensively at the table and blinked, as if trying to reboot his brain. He began to look catatonic when he weakly said, “I need another drink.” Hawke nudged his beer over and Cid took a hold of it and downed it like the first one. But this time he leaned back in his chair, let out a loud, acrid belch and dropped the mug on the table, letting it fall over and roll onto its handle.
“Need a smoke?” asked Hawke.
Cid dismissively waved his hand and absently asked, “When did this happen?”
“All last night,” replied Hawke, lighting up a cigarette himself.
“This is one hell of a serious problem, Raven,” said Cid. “Shit...how did Deidra get involved?”
“We asked her for help after Seth was shot,” said Hawke.
“And now you want my help?” replied Cid, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and wiping his face with his greasy gloves. “What is this goddamn problem, anyway?”
“He’s sitting on the other side of the table,” said Hawke.
Cid stopped rubbing his face and looked through his fingers at Seth, who was sipping his daiquiri through a straw.
“Seth took out the Factioners for killing his father, then the henchmen after they killed Deidra,” said Hawke. “And they met their end in pieces, not peace.”
“Not so docile, am I,” remarked Seth, smiling at Cid and taking another sip.
“What the hell?” said Cid, turning to Hawke. “He’s a goddamn kid! And what do you mean ‘hit-turned-ally?’ Is he some kind of freak the government asked you to destroy? And why the hell should I get mixed up in all this? And no, ‘old time’s sake’ isn’t going to cut it this time. I need some hard goddamn cash to get involved in this kind of shit.”
“I can get you plenty of cash,” said Hawke. “Just name your price.”
“$15,000 per passenger, plus fuel and permits,” said Cid.
“For that kind of money we could buy our own ship!” impugned Seth.
“And who's gonna fly the damn thing?” asked Cid. “You?”
“He’s trying to screw us over!” insisted Seth.
“He’s going to screw Elliot Kelly over,” said Hawke. “I doubt Kelly knows you’ve left Olympus Mons, and I think I’m the only operative working for him that can still hold a gun.”
“Who’s Kelly?” asked Cid. “The guy you tried to sucker into this before me?”
“He’s my old boss, the young punk with more money than he knows how to throw away,” said Hawke. “I doubt he knows of our estrangement and I’m sure he’s still eager to capture Seth.”
“The black market is mixed up in this?!” exclaimed Cid under his breath. “Goddamn, Raven! You sure know how to pick your battles.”
“I haven’t had much choice in this one, so far,” replied Hawke. “And I’m not asking you to get involved, I just need someone I can trust to take us to Earth.”
“Bring me the money in the next three days and I’ll take you and your friend anywhere you’d like. I don’t really care why you are going, at least not now. I’ve had too much beer and stories for tonight.”
“Can Seth stay with you for now?” asked Hawke. “You shouldn’t have to worry about him. He’s a smart kid and he won’t hurt you, unless you try to shoot him.”
“I don’t’ like guns, anyway,” said a very weary-looking Cid. “And it’ll cost an extra $2,000 for babysitting.”
Seth leered at Cid, more for the babysitting crack than his display of reckless greed.
“Done,” said Hawke, standing up and brushing crumbs from the back of his trench coat. He put his cigarette out on the ash tray in the middle of their table. “I’ll meet you at your shop later tonight. I might even have the money by then. And Seth, don’t go throwing anything else out windows. It’s a miracle you haven’t ripped your stitches by now.” He took out a plastic card worth $10 from his pocket and tossed it onto the table and brusquely walked out of the bar.
As Hawke rode the elevator up to Kelly’s penthouse, he closed his eyes and practiced the deep breathing exercise his sergeant had taught him to help focus one’s senses in high-stress situations. Hawke didn’t know what he needed to be worried about, but the unknown is what made him stressed. He felt his Walther through his coat pocket for assurance as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.
Inside the penthouse, the lights were off and Kelly was sitting in his tall, posh chair in front of the fireplace, a half-empty bottle of wine and an empty glass on the table next to him. He was wearing a blue silk robe and his hair was untreated and fell loosely in front of his face. Mozart’s Romanza was being played gently through speakers in the ceiling.
“I gave you that phone for a reason, Raven,” said Kelly in a very sedate tone. “You should have called.”
“Sorry to arrive unannounced.”
“No!” He turned and scowled at Hawke over the arm of his chair. “When John and Helena were taken out and your target escaped, you should have called! I hired you because I thought you were reliable and competent!” He turned back towards the fire and picked up the empty wine glass. “But even Martian lieutenants have their shortcomings, I guess.”
Hawke stepped over and poured some wine into the glass, for which Kelly thanked him curtly and took a sip.
“I think I know where I can find Boudoir’s son,” said Hawke.
Kelly smiled up at him and said, “Really? That’s better than most of the news I’ve heard all day. Tell me, where is the boy right now?”
“He’s on his way to Earth. The Factioners who attacked his apartment were Terrans and I think he wants to finish the blood bath he started.”
“Was it really as bad as Lena’s report?”
“I haven’t read her report, but it looked like a massacre. This kid has incredible strength. I saw him throw John all the way out a window.”
“Oh, Johnny boy,” said Kelly in a singsong manner. “His debts to human resources keep getting deeper. Tell me, if you know where the boy is, why haven’t you captured him?”
“He had already left the planet when the tracking device I placed on him became active. I need a very fast ship to catch up with him.”
“And you shall have one. I will contact my fleet of ships in the morning and commission the fastest one to fly you out to Earth.”
“If it is not pretentious of me, I have already found a ship and a pilot, a very competent and reliable man I knew in Special Forces. I just need some petty cash to pay my way.”
“How much?” He held his glass up to Hawke for a refill.
Hawke poured the rest of the bottle in and said, “$40,000.”
Kelly snorted with laughter and would have shot wine out his nose if he had been drinking any at the time. “My boy, my dear Herald of Odin, I could offer half of that as a bounty for the boy and still get him back in one piece.”
“Seth knows he is being hunted and will be on his guard, a very violent and vicious guard. And $40,000 doesn’t simply pay for the return of your target, but the return of the target as expediently as possible.”
Kelly smiled up at Hawke and wryly said, “I should have hired you for asset negotiation. I’ll give you your fare, though your future jobs are not going to pay as well until I make that money back. When you go downstairs, talk to the receptionist. I will call her with instructions to give you $40,000 in cash, and that she should do so expediently.” He smiled a broad, toothy grin and took another sip of wine, quite pleased with his wit.
“And another thing,” said Hawke. “Is there anything I should know about the boy before I go running after him, anything that would help me track him down or avoid becoming another one of his victims?”
Kelly waved his finger back and forth at Hawke. “It is not wise to peck at the hand that feeds you, Mr. Raven. You survived one encounter with the boy, which proves you know at least enough to track him safely. All other intelligence on Seth Boudoir is strictly for high-ranking officials, and I’m afraid lieutenants are not on that list.”
He turned back to the fire and finished off the wine in his glass while Hawke started walking towards the elevator.
“And do call next time something important happens,” said Kelly. “For, when one part of the body loses its connection with the brain, it can become leprous and start to die. And I have no reservations cutting away at my own body to save the rest.”
Kelly’s half-quandary half-threat didn’t phase Hawke as he rode down to the reception desk. He was just very glad Kelly was fond of Merlot.
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