For A Few Corpses More - Pt. 5

               “You aren’t going.”

               Nyx came to a sudden stop, not sure if she had heard him correctly.

               “I’m sorry,” she looked up at her partner, “Wait, what?” Her fist clenched.

               “You aren’t going with the group. This is too dangerous.”

               “Are you shitting me, Bronson?!”

               Her voice was louder than she had meant for it to be. They were still on the outskirts of the Government district and were both getting quite a few looks now. There were more guards posted in that area, thusly people were better behaved. It was considered the professional area of the city, or so that was the idea. It was still just as poor though, even if the buildings were bigger and the rich lived there, you were all still stuck in the same floating mass of metal.

               Bronson looked up and noticed one of the security guards watching them, someone he had never met before since he had never worked this area. Guards like Bronson were the really good ones, upstanding, reliable; almost caring in some cases. The truth was though that depending on where you were you were just as likely to be beat down by a guard if they didn’t like what you were doing. People feared them not only because of their ability to carry firearms but that they had an unwritten code, guards sided with guards.

               “Keep walking,” Bronson said in a hushed voice to her as he motioned with a hand. They moved quietly for two more blocks until they were near the rail lines, giving Nyx time to fume. Once they were away from other people a bit more Bronson turned and faced her.

               “It’s too dangerous, Nyx. There are too many variables. We aren’t in control on this one, no matter how much he wants us to think that we are.” Bronson kept glancing around as he spoke, as if he thought the walls were listening. “I’m not going to put you in that kind of danger.”

               “Oh fuck you!” Her face was flushed red and her hand was shaking. “Who has been going to Earth with you ever since your brother got put away? Tell me Bron, who?” She pointed a finger at him accusingly. “How many times have I gone down there with you, knowing the risks, knowing what could happen and how no one would give a fuck if it did?”

               “This is different. You don’t know what you’re agreeing to here, no matter what they offered you back there.” Bronson folded his arms over his chest, standing his ground.

               “Hey, I got summoned there too, just like you did.”

               Bronson sighed audibly.

               “What did you say to me after we first met?”

               “What,” he asked with a mild irritation in his voice, realizing he had lost.

               “What,” she paused between words for emphasis, “did you say to me after we first met? You came in and broke up that big fight in the White Tiger. You saw that I could handle myself and after it was all said and done we started talking about the trips down to Earth.” She let the words sink in. “You said I had proven something to you and you said what?”

               He looked over her shoulder almost when he answered, he didn’t want to look into her eyes.

               “I told you that you had the right to die for your own survival like everyone else, that you earned a chance to make the most of it.”

               “Right,” she said with her hands on her hips, still in her defensive mode. “No one else in this city wanted to go planet side with a girl. You saw I was capable and listened to your brain instead of just seeing my gender. So why go all chivalry and soft as shit on me now? Did I lose that right you once told me I had?”

               “Of course not, you’ve proven yourself more than capable.”

               “Am I am liability?”

               “Furthest thing from it, actually.”

               “Then Bron, don’t bullshit me over this.” She softened her assault. “You heard him; you know what this could mean for me.”

               He nodded. He knew how important it was for her. Looking further away he made his last decree.

               “I know we don’t have much or any family really, but we should get our affairs in order before we go.”

               Nyx just nodded quietly with her new found perspective. Bronson’s words ringing in her ear.

               Running across the street, Nyx was lit up by the lights of the ATV that pulled the trailer behind it, honking for her to get out of the way. It was humid down this low, next to the plants, turbines, and engines. This part of the city hadn’t been redone in the past several years and it showed. It was easiest to see where they converted the large boat like ships that brought people up not that long ago into these lower parts of the cities. She felt sweat bead up on her forehead as she reached the building that acted as the headquarters of Yin Contractors.

               She paused at the old metal door and zipped her grey hooded sweatshirt up as far as it would go, pulling the hood up over her head. She wished she had time to go home and change out of the short denim shorts. It had just been one of those nights though. She didn’t regret how nice that the shorts made her ass look, just that she might get groped.

               Knocking three times she grew louder with each strike. There was a chance they wouldn’t hear her if she didn’t. The door opened with a thick cloud of smoke that escaped from the small basement room. She could see inside to the multiple tables with drinking and gambling going on at them. An aged Asian man in a wife beater that was soaked in sweat and smelled like cheap liquor stared her down. Parts of his tattoos were obscured in the folds and wrinkles on his face. His large flat lips held a hand rolled cigarette that hung off of them with a mound of ash that needed to be knocked away.

               He made a sound that sounded like a question of what she wanted; it was hard to tell though.

               “Big Boy sent me,” Nyx said in a flat practiced tone.

               The man nodded with another grunt and let her slide in. The door shut immediately behind her. There was an atmosphere of claustrophobia that was off-set by the smell of the dope and incense, it was oddly calming. She made her way through the dense twin rows of different sized tables and couldn’t help but realize most of the men had stopped to eye-hump her. She sped up just in time to feel a hand slap her denim clad rear firmly. Brushing away the hand out of instinct, her face tensed with anger with clenched teeth. She couldn’t tell which one had done it; wouldn’t have exactly been smart to deal with that at this very moment either.

               She turned upstairs and hurried up the first few steps, pausing to shoot the room a dirty look as a whole, as if they cared. The second floor had several other men on it that weren’t playing games but looked out of place in the offices of the contracting building. They were watching black and white monitors and doing the books, some counted credits and the rest stood watch to keep everyone honest. At the right of the back wall was an old soda machine with the lights on that flickered off and on. She pressed in the metal knob to get her change back and took a step away. A small hiss later the machine moved to reveal a passageway that lead to some descending stairs.

               The room she entered at the bottom was decorated with reds and golds, accented by dim lightning. There was a sweet smell of cherry blossoms that lingered, she loved the smell and paused to take it in. A grunt acknowledged her presence and his lack of patience.

               In the hidden office an overweight Samoan man of nearly five-hundred pounds sat on a bean bag chair reading an electronic pad with his tiny thin rimmed glasses on. Nyx had always thought that if she could see the pad it’d be on the funny pages, as she couldn’t see him reading much else. His name was Eamon, most people assumed he was in charge. He was the muscle, the bodyguard, not the brains.

               “You know who I’m here to see.”

               “Make it quick,” Eamon commanded. “We have actual paying customers.”

               Nyx looked at the large oak desk that rested at the end of the room. No one was there. She slowly approached the red curtains with the black flames embroidered onto them. Pushing the fabric aside she slipped in cautiously.

               “Mai?”

               The small room was brighter with the fake sun lamps up above. It was green too, which was different up here if you didn’t specifically go to one of the farms or botanical districts. There were several different types of plants, bushes, and flowers around the room but in the center were designs in the multitude of small rocks on the floor. The centerpiece for the rock garden was a nice sized bonsai tree.  Nyx could hear sounds coming from the center, like someone cutting or pruning.

               A small Korean woman in a green and gold robe was kneeling by the thin waving tree with a black hood and veil over her face. She said something in Korean, a greeting which Nyx wasn’t sure what it meant.

               “Mai?”

               “You ask if you were expecting anyone else to be here.” The aged voice which answered her was slow and precise with each word.

               “No, well,” Nyx second guessed each word with this woman. “I was just trying to show some respect I suppose.”

               “I might suggest finding a proper title to address me as then.”

               There was a pause as Nyx fist balled up and she had to catch herself. She wanted to ask what the proper Korean word for crime boss was, but decided against it. The old woman smirked, hidden by the veil, her hands still working to massage the plant with the sheers.

               “I need a small favor, well two actually.”

               “Already the requests have doubled,” she said with a final snip. A small branch fell into her free hand and she placed it down carefully before standing. “Why have you gotten this idea in your head that we are friends? Especially after you twice have refused to come work for me.”

               “Come on Mai, your girls have a tendency to get blood on their hands on purpose. Your business is almost as dangerous as working planet side.” Nyx took a step to approach her. “Look, you’ve always been straight forward with me and you helped me after my mother died.”

               “Let us not invoke the past,” Mai said with a slightly raised hand at the mention of the other woman’s mother.

               “I’ll give you ten percent if I die.”

               Mai’s eyebrow raised, interest piqued.

               “I took a very dangerous job,” Nyx told her. “I could stand to gain a lot from it though, so it’s worth it.”

               “Time shall be thy judge.”

               “Right, if I,” she paused, “if I didn’t make it back though I want my credits to go to Gerald White, to pay off his debts.”

               “Your John,” she said in a tone of surprise that was barely expressed from the old woman. The question lingered in the air for a moment.

               “He’s probably the nicest guy I’ve met here, even more so than Bron, and Bron doesn’t give a shit about money.”

               “Ah yes, officer Bronson,” She mused in remembrance. “Your partner, he’s going with you on this dangerous assignment?”

               “Yes.”

               “I’ve warned you about him.” Mai moved to wash her hands in the water basin as she spoke.

               “You don’t like him because he’s one of the guards you can’t buy.”

               “No,” she reached for the towel, “that makes him a professional hazard.” She smiled under the veil and turned to Nyx. “He has a dark future in front of him, he’s bad for you.”

               She touched Nyx’ wrist and there a brief moment of tension. Nyx didn’t know how to respond so she ignored it and cleared her throat.

               “Just, if something happens to me I’m giving you the ability to access my accounts upon my death. Take ten percent for yourself and take the rest for Gerald White, I know you’ll do it. You won’t keep the money for yourself if you didn’t earn it.”

               “Duping young impressionable girls can be such tiresome work.”

               Nyx sighed and continued again. “The second favor,” she said reaching down and pulling the silver chain from the zipped hoodie. The gold cross now hung between them. “If my body makes it back to here, make sure this is buried with me please. It was hers.”

               Mai nodded silently, agreeing to her terms.

               “Tea before you face death?”

              

               Cargo hold twelve was quiet at 04:30. The large space with multiple levels was strangely empty and quiet, even for this time of night. Several small spacecrafts sat in open area with multiple wires, hoses, and other tubes in them, preparations for the work ahead. It was cold, as it was in most of the station, the steam that rose from the vents underneath did little to adjust it.

               Bronson entered as the double doors slid open. Spinning yellow and blue lights signified all of the containment protocols along with the singular buzz of the alarm. His repacked army sack thrown over his shoulder, Bronson glanced around the cargo hold before adjusting his hat.

               “You must be the infamous Mr. Bronson.”

               A voice called out from behind the ship nearest end of the room on the docking clamps. It was the Mithras, the same boat as from last time.

               “No mister required,” Bronson said, “and I can’t say I’m sure where my infamy stems from.”

               A muscular blonde man in army fatigues stepped out from behind the Mithras with a data pad in his hand, smiling.

               “Oh, I’ve just been reading your file. Looked up your service record and your time back on Earth. You should be rather proud actually.” He nodded and shut off the data pad with a smirk. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that though, I’m Dine, Captain Price Dine.”

               The captain extended a hand towards Bronson. Taking it, Bronson watched him closely, usually good at reading people but Dine seemed different. They each released their grip and Bronson studied the man whom he and Nyx would be leading through the dangerous territories to this miracle cure. That nagging feeling was growing in his stomach.

               “We’re almost done loading the gear. We should be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Where is your partner?”

               “She’ll be here,” Bronson promised as he sat his bag down. “She wouldn’t miss it.”

               “Good, we’re a small team and I want everything to go smoothly. I understand why General De Soto couldn’t spare a larger group, and we don’t have a lot of experience with the walkers. I probably have the most hands on, I did a few planet side missions in the first year post exodus.”

               “I’ll get you there safely, if you and your man listen to me.”

               Dine nodded with his lips slightly pursed as he signed off on something. He placed the data pad down.

               “That’s fine, as long as you understand that I’m the one who is in charge here and the cure is my priority. If you or your partner become a liability,” Dine made sure Bronson was eye to eye with him, “it’s my responsibility to deal with it.”

               “Understood.” Bronson responded flatly.

               Absently twitching, his trigger finger brushed the stock of his rifle that was slung over his shoulder. He gave a moment of pause before sliding it off, not wanting Dine to think that a response to his earlier proclamation. Or should he have? He was checking his weapons: rifle, fifty caliber pistol on his hip, machete on the other. He looked up when he heard the extra sets of boots other than Dine’s coming down the ramp of the ship.

               “Bronson,” Dine called, taking a moment from checking one of the small metal containers that were being loaded on the ship. “Want you to meet someone. This is Jason Tower, our pilot.”

               Tower smiled coming down the ramp, his shaggy blonde hair held back by an old baseball cap that advertised a long forgotten baseball team.

               “Well hey now,” Tower gave a smile.

               “He’s one of the best small ship non-military pilots in Elysium city.”

               “Yeah, we’ve met,” Bronson extended his hand to Jason. “He’s good.”

               As the two shook hands though the other figure that had come down the ramp behind him was now visible, Pierce.

               “And Jonah Pierce, my second.”

               Bronson heard Captain Dine’s words but if he had said anything after that his own irritation blocked it out.

               “I thought your second was military. Pierce is reckless.”

               Dine crossed his arms over his chest. “When General De Soto said we were short handed, he wasn’t kidding.” He observed the look Bronson was giving his subordinate. “Mr. Pierce told me about your last run-in. I’m afraid that he was retrieving information about the Vita Nova.”

               Bronson’s eyes were glued on Pierce the entire time Dine was talking.

               “De Soto trusts him,” Dine added, “and he’ll listen to my orders. He’s skilled and probably has almost as much experience killing ghouls as you do.”

               “We’ll see.”

               Tower followed up Bronson’s statement by clearing his throat.

               “We’re gassed up and everything is set for your HALO drop. One of your guys triple checked the resurfacing systems so as soon as these last few gear crates are loaded we should be good to go.”

               Tower nodded with a smile and re-adjusted his baseball cap as he headed back up the ramp. Pierce went to get the finale medium sized crates that were going on board.

               “We’re using a HALO to get down? Won’t that attract attention?”  

               “Kind of,” Dine said with an almost excited grin. “HALO jumps are usually high altitude low opening, this one will be more like no opening. We want to be going so fast that the radars from the other cities won’t pick us up and no one on the ground will have much of a chance to spot us.”

               “You’re not thinking of dropping into the water are you?”

               “Yep, and yes I know the dangers of hitting the water that fast. That’s why we have thrusters on the bottom of the pods to slow decent just at the right moment.” Dine was explaining and his hands to almost demonstrate in a way but Bronson wasn’t buying it. “Then we splash down and go a bit deeper for a full stop. When that happens the gel packs come out and push us back up to resurface. Easy as pie.”

               “When was the last time you had real pie,” Bronson asked but the pre flight test of the engines began and made his comment very hard to hear.

               The throbbing bellow of the engines also prohibited them from hearing the door slide open and part again for the last member of their party. Nyx ran in, late from changing clothes. She stopped near Bronson out of breath. Her partner did not welcome her, but instead motioned with a nod of his head towards Pierce who was loading the last crate.

               “Oh,” she said realizing he was their fourth.

               “At least we got that pilot you’re sweet on.”

               “Wait, what?”

               Bronson shook his head as he re-checked his weapons yet another time. He tightened the straps on his black gloves and boots.

               “There she is,” Dine called out with a pleasant demeanor. “You must be Nyx, I’m Captain Price Dine.” He extended a hand to her and when she accepted he shook it the same as he had Bronson’s. ”Let’s get you two suited up.”

               Bronson put the flak jacket over his shirt. He was used to wearing one, but it had been a while. Pulling the brown cloth over it he made sure everything was in place. His black boots were tied tightly, gloves secured on his hands.

               “You know with that hat and revolver on your side you look like a cowboy.”

               Bronson looked up at Dine, regarding his comment. “Protection, that’s it.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder.

               “Nah, it fits you.” Dine said with a smirk as he headed up the ramp of the vessel.

               Glancing over, Bronson watched Nyx squirm with the flak vest. They weren’t designed for female soldiers at all. She was trying to adjust it over her tank top with her lips curled in irritation. He walked up behind her. Placing one hand on her shoulder, the other pulled hard on the back strap.

               “Jesus!” Nyx winced, “how do you breath in this?” She grabbed her chest wrinkled her nose uncomfortably.

               “Suck it up,” he remarked as he looked her over. Her usual faded grey pants and sleeves underneath the dark green hood and wrap that rested on her shoulders. There were two black belts with her gear on it that rested on her hips. He eyed the 9mm pistol that rested in the holster with the tie string. “You’re going to want something bigger than that.”

               “You know I’m better with the machete,” she said tapping the metal blade with her fingernail.

               “No,” he shook his head, “trust me.”

               Bronson spoke to Dine. They agreed that the light-weight MP5 was probably best. Nyx didn’t have much time to get too familiar with it before the Captain clapped his hands together twice rapidly.

               “Time to go people.”

               Bronson reached over and flipped the safety up on the machine gun, smirking at Nyx in one of those rare playful moments. She sneered at him and followed him up the metal ramp of the ship, smiling at Tower, who was doing the final check. She stopped abruptly as her boot hit the metal pod.

               “What are these,” She asked, glancing down at the barely person sized metal orbs. She looked them over for a moment before raising an eyebrow at Captain Dine and Bronson.

               “Wait, how did you say we were getting down?”