The Procurers - Part 9
By Pfantazm
Author's Note: This story contains depictions of the future. If they are proved to be inaccurate several hundred years from now, enh, that's science fiction for you. The characters in this story have unprotected sex, with the basic assumption that anything that can do them in will have been cured by the time the story takes place. If you think you can hang on that long (especially given the previous disclaimer about accuracy), then, by all means, follow their example. Otherwise, stay safe. Direct interpersonal contact is feasible via pfantazm@hotmail.com. To access and review other documents of a similar derivation to the one herein, locate the relevant directory at www.pridesites.com/pfantazm/index.html. A couple of other things before I continue the story. (You've waited this long, what a minute or two more. First, I'd like to thank Marty H. for the gentle prod in the ass that got this story going again. (Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) If he hadn't e-mailed me, I don't know when I would have turned my attention back to writing. The dam is broken, and hopefully creativity will flow again. Secondly, there's this other guy, see? He's an author at Nifty too, writing in the Gay Incest category exclusively so far, and he's going by "Phangasm". Obviously, this person doesn't spell his name as badly as I spell mine. Just as obvious is the fact that he ain't me, and I ain't him. Nothing personal, but if he starts doing Author's Notes like this one and switches to science fiction, I'm gonna beat him up after school. ~~~ 1.9 - THE ZYMOBIUS FILE Scott_Quinn's implants were in high adrenaline mode. His blood sang, as though a single, clear note, played by an infinite bow drawn across a violin string, reverberated through his system. Familiar enough to keep his subconscious on edge, and undetectable until the music finally stops. He scanned his surroundings in the parking section. He was sure there would be more thugs guarding the way out, just in case their targets got past the first wave. With luck, they would be smart enough to know who they were looking for, and not question innocent by-standers like himself. Scott crept as silently as possible toward his rental vehicle. He heard movement ahead. It was very faint. It might be someone breathing, or just shifting their weight from foot to foot, but Scott's sensitive ears caught it. He would probably encounter whoever it was before he could get to his car. He stopped being so stealthy, and instead only walked very quietly. He kept his head down as he turned the next corner and looked up. Sure enough, the thug was standing right there, dark suit and all. "Oh!" Scott said, feigning surprise. "You scared the crap out of me. First I think I hear shooting upstairs, and now you." "Shooting?" "Yeah, some zapping noises, just like you hear in the vids. I mean, you hear stories about this planet, but really." "Can I see some ID, please?" Scott knew the thug had no authority to ask, but Scott held out his fist so the thug could see the top of his hand. A UID, home planet and bar code appeared. They weren't Scott's, but the thug would never know the difference. 'I'm obviously from offworld and not who you're looking for,' Scott thought. 'Piss off.' "I think it would be best, sir, if you cleared out of this section of the building." Scott gave the guy a knowing look and trotted toward his car. He drove out of the building and left without any more trouble. * * * Evan and the others had parked in the lowest lot in that section of the building. Raven burst through the door again, weapon at the ready. Penelope! followed him and squeezed off a shot at something. A thug ducked and rolled out from behind a small car. From his stomach, he returned fire and another armed thug arrived running. Raven ushered Sasha and Evan out of the stairwell and the four started moving toward their vehicles. "Come with us to our cargo-mover," Raven called to Evan. "We'll drive you to your airbike. It'll be safer. Stick with me." Sasha was already running ahead with Penelope! covering him. The four fugitives ran around the corner of the center shaft of the building. Evan turned it just in time to see one thug fall dead from Penelope!'s weapon and a second man open fire on them. Evan pressed himself against the wall in synch with the others until Penelope! picked him off. "You've done this before," Raven observed. They'd only paused a moment before taking off again. Sasha had his agent out and at the ready. When they got close enough, he aimed it at a cargo-mover with a hardware repairman's logo on the side. The door opened just as Sasha reached it. Penelope! waited at the ready until both Evan and Raven were safely inside. She embarked last and slammed the side door, and Raven climbed into the driver's seat. They pulled screaming backwards out of their parking space. Raven turned the car parallel to the roadway out and accelerated forward they way they'd just come. The two corp agents who'd been on their tail dove to the side just in time. They fired back at the retreating vehicle. Inside, Evan could hear the energy bolts strike their rear and he cringed. "Relax," Sasha said. "Dispersive coating. We're good." Evan didn't relax much though. "Where's your bike?" Raven called back. "One-eighty from where you were!" Evan yelled. "Coming up. Get ready to jump out." Evan crouched by the door, his hand on the latch. "You'll lead us out, then you're on your own," Sasha told him. "Thank you once again." Sasha gave Evan a pat on the ass as he said this. Evan looked back at him, and saw him wink in the dimness of the vehicle. "We're here," Raven said as the cargo-mover lurched to a halt. Evan popped the latch and heard someone slam it behind him. He jumped on his bike and started it up. It roared to life and Evan manoeuvred it out of its spot and zipped off ahead of Sasha's van. More thugs were ahead. Evan aimed to almost hit one of them. The rest remained standing and fired after him. He heard that at least one was hit by the cargo-mover just behind him. Evan hopped his bike over the laser barrier at the pay gate; Raven plowed the van through the side of it instead, disabling it. Evan fumbled for his agent, keeping one eye on the gravway and one on the agent's dock. He keyed in the destination Quinn had entered and a map appeared in his windscreen. The cargo-moved stayed behind him for the first turn, but after that, there were only a couple of BoTan corporate cars behind him. * * * Scott had no end of trouble finding a way onto the floor where his instructions said this OxygenJim character would he waiting. Eventually, he'd had to climb up through a hole in the ceiling below. The whole structure was falling apart. He looked around and saw what might once have been a luxury apartment, but the entire wall was gone, exposing it to the open air. Scott detected a humanoid heat signature somewhere on the floor, but he didn't need to go looking. He picked up one of the plasticrete fragments and bashed it against the remains of one of the walls. The heat signature moved and Scott could tell that the person providing it was armed. "Who's there?" asked a male voice. "I'm Scott_Quinn of _Daybreaker_. Evan sent me here to pick you up." "How do I know you are who you say you are?" Scott consulted the noted Evan made. Finding nothing more useful, he bashed the plasticrete again: *tunk, tunk*. "That's not going to do it for me." Scott sighed. "We don't have time for this. When I left Evan, he was in a firefight with some corporate nasties. He's going to be heading for my ship, and I intend to be there when he does. Now, either I am who I am, and I'm here to help you - if so, you should come with me - or I'm not and I'm from that corp. In that case, I'm not here alone and your one weapon isn't going to do you a bit of good. Right now, you're hoping I'm telling the truth." The heat signature came forward. A classic redhead walked out of the bowels of the building, his arms in the air and his energy pistol dangling from one finger. "Stop being silly and collect up your things. We haven't much time." * * * "Minder, help me!" >Please specify. "Direct me to your ship before I get killed!" >Take the third exit to the right on this gravway. An energy pulse buzzed past Evan's ear. He ducked his head lower and tried to squeeze a few more km/h out of the accelerator. There were at least two cars behind him that he noticed when he'd dared to take his eyes off the way ahead at this speed. He was going to have to shake them before he could go to the spaceport. He'd tried taking side roads and obscure alleys, but the corps had stayed with him the whole way. Evan's luck was going to run out if he didn't try something radical soon. Evan could see slow-moving traffic ahead on the gravway. He'd have to take the gravway exit coming up, sending him further away from his destination. Unless... these roads were formed by gravity fields, one on the bottom, two sides to keep vehicles on track, and one on top. The top was there in case a vehicle needed to turn around, like an ambulance. They had a special rig that allowed them to drive the wrong way up the road above the other cars. Normal vehicles had no way to get up there, and no way to keep them from going off the side. Evan came up right behind a car with a sloping back to it. He reared the bike. If he judged it wrong, he'd sink too far into the field and he might stall it. He used the thrusters to launch the bike over the car in front of him. He cleared the upper field and cut the engine. Evan coasted to a crawl, gliding on top of the gravway and he watched the corp cars drive past him, unable to follow. He'd lost them, but now he needed to get back on the gravway before they came back around again. "Minder, how can I get back down?" >Considering. Evan sat uncomfortably in midair, praying the airbike's antigrav held, and praying no cops came down this road. They could get up here with no trouble at all. >Without an emergency vehicle drive, it may be possible that the seal at an exit may not be perfect. Point the airbike downwards and you may slip through the fields. "And that's your best suggestion? That doesn't sound safe!" >The field below you should catch you. The other alternative is to wait until an emergency vehicle comes to assist you. Your present situation would suggest-- "Okay, okay, if that's all you got." Evan revved the engine and let it idle a moment before easing the bike forward. He inched forward, the certainty of those black cars coming back hastening him, and the knowledge of what would befall if he went over the side holding him back. Other motorists, passing through the gravway below, would brake and honk at him until they realized he wasn't in their way. Any moment now, one would report him. He had to be gone by then. Evan watched the road. Every few kilometers, a relay was installed to maintain the fields' strength. Other than that, there was nothing to see. As he watched for the correct exit, he could see straight down, hundreds of stories down to what was left of the planet's surface below. Besides the cars just beneath him, there were other gravways below, conveying passengers as they criss-cross the city. He wondered, if he happened to land on one of them, would he punch right through, or would he be caught? More likely he'd bounce off again. "How far to our exit?" >700 meters. At your present speed you'll get there in three minutes. A black car zipped under him. "I'm an open target here..." He gunned the engine - slightly - and the airbike jerked forward with sudden acceleration. He'd been keeping his eyes far ahead on the straight stretch of road to ensure that he wasn't veering to the side. Now he was a few degrees off, and Evan turned to try to compensate, but of course, once you're off-course, it's doubly difficult to get back. Evan was going too fast, his airbike was turned and now it was moving at an angle, going straight down the gravway, but corner first. "Minder, where's that exit?" >One hundred meters, ten seconds away. "Is it good? Can I get off?" >Impossible to tell. Evan's knuckles were pale white. Because he was concentrating on the road so much and staying on it, his eyes barely registered where the exit was. He had to give it a try. He looked to the approaching exit and his body and the bike naturally followed. Evan threw his weight forward and the airbike tipped down. If he hit this wrong, he'd skid right off the edge into oblivion. Evan panicked as the airbike plunged downwards and lurched to the side. He felt himself beign thrown off the bike. He couldn't tell yet whether he was safe, and if he was, then he needed to stay on his ride. The world bounced into the comforting normality of driving down the gravway until the airbike bounced against the side, almost unseating him again. Another vehicle (blue, thank the gods) was coming up fast behind him, and was leaning on his horn. The adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Evan floored it. "Minder, you still up there?" >I am. "Get me to your ship! I'm ready to leave." * * * At a considerably more leisurely pace, Scott and OJ were headed for _Daybreaker_. "Do you know anything about the craziness back there?" Scott asked once the two had gone through the required small talk and OJ had been told what had taken place at the rooftop cafe. "The corps are a company called BoTan who've managed to get a monopoly on this planet. Evan got hold of a way that the monopoly could be broken. He was nothing more than a conduit. A friend of ours found it and sold it to Evan." "Start at the beginning. Who are BoTan? What do they manufacture?" "Their founders are on old political family, with creds to burn. Their business is agricultural. Their motto is, 'We feed the planet.'" "BoTan, as in 'botanical'." "Right, only their true link with the word is hardly worth mentioning," OJ continued. "It's all been genetically altered and refined until it's barely a plant anymore. They don't need fresh air, sunlight, or water; none of it spoils, so no refrigeration is needed and the stuff can just sit until it's needed." "How in space did they manage a monopoly? I realized that yours is an urbanized planet, but there must be *someone* who can compete." "There are two reasons. BoTan has used the usual corp thug tactics to weaken their former competitors and second, well,... I know you have cybernetic implants, so you may be able to check for yourself. Do you have the planetary laws inloaded?" "Accessing now," Scott said. "Where should I be looking?" "Import-export." "I don't like the sound of that.... You have a Grebb's clause?! That's supposed to protect agricultural worlds from imports! How--?" "Like I said," OJ told him, "an old rich, well-placed family. They enforce the Clause to the degree that no one can bring in any living plant matter onto the planet." "So that's what Evan has? Contraband plant matter?" "In a sense, but its not from off-world. One of our fuck buddies got a serving of tomatoes that still had the seeds in it." Scott thought back to the salad he'd had in the diner. He'd been so concerned about the bug he found in there, he didn't notice that the tomato had been 'red mush'. No yellow seeds. "A genetic mutation *backwards*, then," Scott said. "And since he got it on the planet, it's perfectly legal." "Exactly. He didn't know what the hell they were, just by luck he talked to Evan before he talked to BoTan. Evan is trying to sell the seeds to--" "Rebel farmers! They're going to try to grow tomatoes!" Scott said. "What a beautifully twisted story!" By now their car was pulling into the spaceport, and Scott directed it to the rental place. "Get your stuff out of the car. I'll settle up, and we're off to _Daybreaker_. We're leaving as soon as Evan and Minder get here." The two men were able to carry OJ's and Evan's belongings easily. Neither of them had had much time to pack. They passed through Customs and security easily. True to the sense that Scott had gotten when he arrived on Halvaga III less than a week ago, they were far more interested in what was coming in than going out. Scott led OJ out to the people-movers. OJ had never gone to see the spaceships before. They were all different strange organic shapes, large seamless, perverted bubbles of dirty metal, ceramic and plastics. They walked along the people movers to get there a bit faster, as _Daybreaker_ was docked quite some distance into the port. It was a relatively small ship, a flat, round discus about 40 meters tall, and perched on its side as though ready to roll away. It was golden yellow all over, its finished somewhat dulled and mottled from high-speed impact from space dust. The gangplank led up to a small hatch just above the dock level. "This is home," Scott said with a smile. The hatch opened as Scott approached. "Hey, boss," said a man inside. He had dark blue hair, wavy and short, light brown eyes, and a tall, angular face. He was tall, about 190 cm, and he wore a spotless blue jumpsuit left unzipped halfway down his chest. "This one of our new passengers?" "OxygenJim, this is Meicross, our pilot." Scott turned pulled a sturdy- looking bag out of a small cabinet and started filling it with the "luggage" he'd been carrying. OJ put his stuff down and shook Meicross' hand. "Nice to meet you." "Good to meet you too, man." Scott was now cramming as much of OJ's things into the bag as he could. "As soon as our other passenger is on board, we need to lift off. Our departure might be impeded by the local authorities." "Gotcha, boss. Trouble again. I'll get us started, then." Scott hooked the bag onto a metal O-ring and pressed a switch on it. The bag rose up toward the ceiling. OJ watched it rise. The wall seemed to take up the entire height of the ship. Then he examined the rest of the room, and his jaw dropped. The walls of the room curved outward, following the design of the ship, and it contained most of the things you'd see in your average small apartment: a table and chairs, food prep station, recessed computer terminal, comfortable couch and chairs, and all the rest of it, but it was all bolted to the wall, rather than to the floor, which was only about 2 meters by 3 meters, just big enough for a couple of people to lie down in. On the other hand, the room was incredibly tall, with furniture all the way up. Scott had climbed a ladder up the opposite wall about halfway to the top of the room. "When the ship is in space, that will be the floor," he said, pointing across the way, "and this will be the ceiling. That," he said, pointing up, "will be the tail." OJ tried wrapping his head around the new information and couldn't. Scott laughed. "I take it you've never been to space, at least not on board a private ship before. You'll get used to it once we're underway." Scott was now up to the ceiling and the bag hung there waiting for him. He clambered up through a hatch in the roof, leaned back through, and hauled his sack of goodies up the chimney after him. Meicross appeared at OJ's side and ushered him over to the corner. "You gotta get yourself strapped in. No telling when we're going to have to lift off." He unfolded a chair that was attached to the wall, and in a sane orientation. As Meicross strapped in, he wondered what was keeping Evan. * * *