Attack of the Bounty Hunters Ch. 08

[This is not a "sex story". It is a story about a society where people have superfast reflexes... and guns.]

Chapter 8: A Meeting With Mo

"Surface to air missiles?" said the Chief. "What on August would they use those for?"

"You mean, what would they have used them for?" said Croft, grinning, accentuating the fact that he had destroyed them.

The holo of the Chief nodded, smiling slightly. "Very well, Mr. Croft, you have earned a bit of praise. But what was their purpose?"

"I don't know," said Croft.

"Have you gleaned anything else from your listening devices?"

"Not really," said Croft. Most of the conversations he had monitored were mundane. Either Quandry held his important conversations somewhere else, or he had figured out that his ranch was being monitored.

"Then continue with your primary mission. Talk to more elites."

"Chief, every time I talk to elites I get attacked by gunmen."

"You seem able to handle yourself well."

"There's a limit to the number of tricks even I can pull," said Croft.

"All right," said the Chief. "Spend one more day at it and then we'll regroup and consider our options. Agreed?"

Croft mumbled something.

"Very good." Her holographic image faded.

"She seemed almost pleased with you today," said Tane.

"Yes, very nice," said Croft, distracted. "So, where are we going today to give someone else a chance to kill me?"

"I've set up a meeting with one of the foremost psychiatrists on Grafton," said Tane.

"Good, I feel I need to have my head examined," said Croft.

The Clapper clapped.

"And make sure you book extra time for the Clapper as well," Croft added.

********

"-I'm not a psychiatrist, Mr. Croft," said Arn Arco. Arco didn't look like a typical Graftonite. He had sandy brown hair, wore old fashioned glasses, and his face had a softer edge.

Croft, having monitored the grisly conversation where Quandry had learned of his identity, realized there was no longer any reason to operate under his alias.

"Not a psychiatrist?" said Croft, casting a glance at Tane.

"Well, perhaps I am the closest thing to a psychiatrist on Grafton," said Arco. "You have to understand, there are no mentally ill people on Grafton."

"Let me guess; 'If you're mentally ill, don't come to Grafton'," said Croft wryly.

"Yes, well, if by that you mean that there aren't a lot of social services here for the mentally ill, you're correct. In fact, the mentally ill don't survive very long here," said Arco.

"And why is that?" Croft asked, although he already guessed the answer.

"The mentally ill tend to be ill-mannered in public; and on Grafton, if you're ill-mannered, it's best if you be a good gunfighter; unfortunately, the mentally ill rarely are," said Arco.

"So if I were a paranoid schizophrenic with a gold medal from your shooting Olympics, I'd do just fine here?"

"I wouldn't phrase it that way, but... well, actually, the way you phrase it works too," said Arco. "But getting back to what I am, I am a culturist."

"Culturist?"

"Ah... sociologist, you might call it. I study the culture of Grafton, our dynamics, what makes us what we are on a societal level."

Arco was the equivalent of a sociologist. He had been ridiculed roundly by his peers for years for having little interest in bounty hunting or mercenary work, and the criticism got so bad that one of his neighbors started calling him a "sheep". But after Arco shot his neighbor in a friendly dispute, the public criticism of him abated.

Unlike most Graftonites, Arco was interested in the why of things, a question most Graftonites weren't even interested in. In a sense he was an outcast on his own planet.

"I see," said Croft. "I'm curious; how much demand is there for... your kind of work here?"

"None," said Arco promptly, with a smile. "I mostly publish my papers in off-planet journals. I have to supplement my meager income by hiring myself out to kill people."

Croft raised an eyebrow. He felt his body temperature rise slightly, and he shifted in his seat.

Arco smiled again. "Oh, I have a code of ethics, Mr. Croft. I only kill those who have killed others. It's so unfortunately rare for people in my profession to have such ethics, wouldn't you say?"

Croft thought it was time to tactfully change the subject. "Ah, getting back to the purpose of our visit-"

"Ah, yes, you want to learn more about the culture of my people. But that would take years, Mr. Croft. Can you be more specific?" Arco asked.

"For years the Graftonites have been content to hire themselves out as bounty hunters and bodyguards and the like," said Croft. "Now all of a sudden they're all becoming militant and talking about war. Can you tell me why the sudden change?"

Arco nodded. "The answer is simple, Mr. Croft. It resolves around fairness."

"Fairness?"

"You are probably familiar with the death of Rel Cadwalader, yes?"

Croft nodded.

"It really enraged people," said Arco. "Not because he was killed (because a number of people are killed every day on Grafton), but in the way he was killed. A sneak attack by multiple opponents."

"But I have seen Graftonites attack in groups before, or launch surprise attacks," said Croft.

"Were they one on one encounters?" Arco asked. "Or was the Grafton vastly outnumbered, or part of a group attacking another group? The rules for war are different, you see. But one on one encounters are supposed to be fair. The rule of law has been replaced by the rule of ability. If one cheats the rules, one risks societal disapproval."

"Which can be quite lethal, I see," said Croft. "But you were explaining how this ties in with the current situation."

"Well, the unfairness of his death enraged the population. It cast sheep--begging your pardon, off-worlders in quite a bad light. Previously, off-worlders hadn't been held in the highest of regards, but they were never as intensely disliked as they are now."

"Because they don't kill by the rules?" Croft asked. "Because they don't play right?"

"Play right? Yes, that's one way of putting it," said Arco, smiling a little. "There is another strand to it, of course, the fight for civil rights."

"So Quandry is invading other planets to fight for all of your 'civil rights'?" said Croft.

"Precisely!" said Arco. "We on Grafton believe that one should be rewarded based on one's ability. For centuries we've taken jobs as bounty hunters, killers, item locators, and other high risk positions. While our pay has been higher than what you would think of in traditional professions, it has still only been a fraction of the reward."

"How do you mean?"

"For example, an associate of mine recently was hired to terminate a business rival on Selekaris," said Arco. "This rival ran a multimillion credit business which was a competitor to the client who hired my associate. My associate was paid 75,000 credits to eliminate the rival. But the elimination of the rival led to the collapse of the rival's company, leading to gains of millions of credits for the client. Imagine that! A gain of millions of credits, and my associate was only paid in five figures."

"I almost feel sorry for the killer," said Croft ironically.

Arco frowned. "I note your sarcasm, Mr. Croft. But consider that the rival had bodyguards. It was a dangerous mission. With the reward so high, my associate should have had a greater share of the rewards, because it was his superior ability that made it possible to eliminate the rival."

"Then why not do something more peaceful, such as going on strike," Croft suggested.

"In our culture, invading other planets is the equivalent of going on strike," said Arco. "It's our way of getting noticed."

"It certainly attracts attention," said Croft.

"Thank you."

"I'm surprised that a scholarly 'culturist' such as yourself would endorse such violent means," said Croft.

"But I don't," said Arco.

Croft looked surprise.

"I merely said I understand the cultural imperative. I didn't say I agree with it."

"Do you?"

"No. I hope this doesn't offend you to say this, but off-worlders can't help being inferior to us. I think they should be pitied, I think, rather than punished," said Arco. He wasn't trying to mock Croft; he was just expressing his honest feelings.

"A most enlightened perspective." Croft commented.

"I support a more moderate solution," said Arco.

"Which is?"

"Quandry is promoting a conference next week to work out a solution involving the payment of transfer fees to cement galactic unity."

"You mean the blackmail payments."

"I prefer to think of them as economic exchanges which will promote greater harmony," said Arco.

"What if the League doesn't pay up?"

"Then the results could be most tragic, for the League," said Arco, looking sad.

"Do you really want to see a wider war?" Croft asked.

"As I've stated, I do not."

"Then what can we do to stop it?"

"I'm not sure you can," said Arco. "Quandry has done an extraordinary thing, uniting our people."

"Uniting? I thought he only has one or two percent of the population who actively supported him."

"For one or two percent of Graftonites to agree on anything is considered unification," said Arco. "And a much greater proportion of the population actively sympathizes with him."

"Is there any way he can be discredited? What if he publicly showed fear or cowardice?" said Croft.

"Mo Quandry? That's highly unlikely, Mr. Croft," said Arco.

"Well, is there any way we can change cultural norms, then?"

"Certainly," said Arco. "Become a Graftonite, win some gold medals, hold a large number of Peaceful Debates, face down your opponents in combat, and persuade people to believe in your cause."

"I'm not sure we have the time for all that," said Croft.

"Then your government had better be prepared to pay," said Arco.

********

They went outside Arco's suburban office. It was a hot day on August, and Croft felt an unusual amount of perspiration.

Tane looked at him oddly.

"Something wrong?" said Croft.

"You look... different," said Tane.

"Different how?" said Croft.

"I don't know, but ever since we got up this morning to go to Arco, you've looked somehow different," said Tane.

"Do I look like myself?" said Croft reasonably.

"Yes, basically," said Tane.

"Then that's sufficient," said Croft.

They walked to the groundcar. Standing there waiting for them was a gunman.

"Don't tell me, we're in a no parking zone," said Croft. He didn't look even marginally concerned, which made Tane wonder what was going on.

The Gunman stood very still, watching Croft, waiting for him to draw.

"Before you shoot, will you at least tell me who you're here to kill?" said Croft reasonably.

"Croft," the gunman spat.

"Well, then you can't shoot me."

"Can't I?" the gunman leered. He looked at Burundi. Burundi looked surprised.

Croft noticed that. "What's wrong?"

"This is Alat Bates," said Burundi, indicating the gunman.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" said Croft.

"He's a quick shooting silver medalist," said Burundi. "You don't stand a chance."

Croft turned to face the now grinning gunman, who was undoubtedly pleased to have been recognized.

"I don't need any special chances," said Croft. "Because you've got the wrong guy. For you see, I'm not Clifford Croft."

"Nice try," said the gunman. He looked amused, enough so that he took out a small datapad which had a picture of Croft's face on it. Bates held it up.

Croft nodded. "Yes, that's Croft, but as you can see, I'm not him."

The gunman was about to ask what he was talking about, when Croft casually reached up and carefully pulled on his own face. Pieces of his forehead, nose, and cheeks started to come off, revealing a face underneath that was very different. This was someone else, not Clifford Croft.

Tane looked surprised. Who had she just spent the entire morning with?

The gunman gasped.

"As you can see, you fell for the decoy," said the man they thought had been Croft.

"Maybe I should just kill you anyway," said the gunman angrily.

"Why? Have you been paid to kill a decoy?"

"No."

"Then why reward your boss with something more than you were paid for? If you were paid to kill me, I could understand that. But are you really going to give your boss a free kill?" said 'Croft' reasonably.

The gunman snorted and stalked off.

When a moment had passed and there was no sign of his returning, Tane allowed herself to exhale and looked at Croft.

"What.... How...?"

"I believe your real question is, 'who'?" said Croft. He pulled at his face again, and another layer of plastiform came off, revealing the real face of Clifford Croft. "It was getting hot in here. I'm glad we're done with these interviews, because I'm all out of tricks."

Putting on (and taking off) two layers of disguises is not something for an amateur; but no one had accused Croft of being an amateur for hundreds of years.

********

When Croft got back to their apartment he checked his listening devices. Quandry had already heard the news and was raging about it.

"Of course it was Croft, you idiot," came Quandry's voice.

"But boss-" came Bates' voice.

"Don't 'but boss' me," said Quandry. "I'm going to give you one more chance. Don't fail me again."

"Yes boss," said Bates.

"Now get out of my sight."

His footsteps receded, while a new set took their place.

"Has the latest shipment arrived?" said Quandry.

"Yes," came a voice that Croft recognized as Rocco's.

"Did it all get here intact?"

"Yes, the bombs are all there."

"Good," said Quandry. "Where are you storing them?"

"In Regular. We're temporarily storing them at 1572 Uantra street," said Rocco.

"I don't want them in an office building, I want them here!" said Quandry. "That Croft pest is still on the loose! I want them moved here first thing tomorrow!"

"Yes, Mo."

The footsteps receded.

********

"What kind of bombs?" asked the Chief.

"He wasn't specific."

"First surface to air missiles and now bombs," said the Chief. "While at the same time he is convening a peace conference."

"Maybe he's trying to keep his options open, in case the peace conference fails," said Tane.

"Or perhaps he intends to blow up the peace conference," said Croft.

"What would he have to gain from that?" said the Chief. "That wouldn't help him make more money. And where would the surface to air missiles fit in? No, we don't have all the information."

"Perhaps he ordered the weapons to shore up his flank among the hardliner faction in his organization," said Tane. "Perhaps that show of force will give him the political room to open negotiations."

"Do you actually believe the things you say?" Croft marveled.

"It's a possibility," said Tane. "There are bound to be differing elites with different ideas for strategy even within Quandry's own group. If we negotiate with him in good faith and strengthen the moderates-"

"Chief, the League can't seriously be considering making blackmail payments to Quandry, can they?" said Croft.

"Blackmail payments? Never," the Chief assured him. "However, as I've already said, we might be willing to contribute to an economic development fund, to cement a bond between our two people and reduce tensions-"

"I think it will be very dangerous to go forward with this conference," said Croft.

"It's not my decision to make, and it certainly isn't yours," said the Chief. She wet her lips. "I'm not a total fool, Mr. Croft, despite what you may think. I share your concerns. That's why you need to investigate further. Go to this warehouse and find out what these bombs are. Then we will talk more. The conference is in two days, and we don't have much time."

"Right," said Croft, signing off. He turned to Tane, "Well, at least we didn't waste any time talking about our meeting with Arco."

"That wouldn't have been a waste of time," said Tane. "He provided some useful insight into the culture of this planet."

"What useful insight?" said Croft. "Name one useful thing he said that could be of any use to us."

"He told us that Graftonites have a certain unhappiness about off-worlders that may be appeased by an economic development fund," said Tane.

"Yes, they want money, a lot of it," said Croft. "I already knew that."

"Do you always rush to conclusions, Mr. Croft?"

"Pretty much," said Croft.

********

That night Croft drove to the office building where the bombs were supposed to be hidden. He brought Burundi along with him, but had mixed feelings about doing so.

Last time he had gotten caught as he had left the warehouse containing the missiles. He wanted to be able to get away quickly if needed and having Burundi at the controls of the groundcar waiting for him would help shave precious seconds off their escape.

But he didn't know how Burundi would feel about his breaking and entering; Burundi knew he was going to break into the building, though Croft hadn't told him about the bombs. If Burundi had any qualms about it, he didn't say so.

Croft easily bypassed automated security measures and slipped into the building. It struck him as a little too easy, but then Graftonites were never very good about electronic security. They relied on flesh and blood guards instead.

The building was only three stories tall. It appeared deserted. It should only take him a few minutes to run through each floor. But he was not expecting what he saw inside.

The building was empty. Completely empty--no office equipment, furniture, or anything, just a giant empty building.

This meant trouble. Croft immediately left the premises, and ran for the ground car-

Only to find four Graftonites waiting for him.

All had their blasters raised.

Burundi was leaning against the groundcar, with an odd expression on his face. The four Graftonites had him in their line of sight, but they were primarily facing Croft. Bates was among them.

Bates made eye contact with Croft. "If you reach for anything, we'll shoot you. If you try anything, we'll shoot you."

"We?" said Burundi, frowning. "All of you against him?"

Bates turned to Burundi. "You must be Burundi. Do you know who I am?"

Burundi nodded. He knew that Bates was a silver medalist.

"Then don't get involved," said Bates. He gave Burundi a smug grin.

Bates and his men tensed up, looking carefully at Burundi for any sign of reaction. At the slightest hint that he might reach for his blaster, they would draw.

Burundi hesitated for a moment, and held his breath. Then he nodded, and some of the tension dissipated.

"What are you doing working for this off-worlder anyway?" said Bates.

"Money," said Burundi simply.

"Do you really care what happens to him?" said Bates, indicating Croft.

Burundi shook his head. "In fact, I dislike him rather intensely."

"Then why don't you join us?" said Bates. He studied Burundi appraisingly. "Why don't you come back and talk with us?"

Burundi considered for a moment, then nodded.

Bates walked over to Croft, his gun pointed straight at him. "You're very lucky, you know."

"Lucky?" said Croft. "How does getting caught make me lucky?"

"Mr. Quandry wants to see you," said Bates. "That means you get to live for at least a few more hours."

"It's nice to be wanted," said Croft, as Bates plucked his blaster out of his holster. One of his men came forward and patted Croft down.

"Off with your boots," said Bates.

Croft opened his mouth to protest.

"If he tries anything, kill him," said Bates.

After Croft had removed his boots, Bates turned and gave him a smug smile. "This way, please."

The ride back to Quandry's ranch was quiet and uneventful. Croft tried to think happy thoughts, but wasn't having very much success. He knew what awaited him at the end of this ride, and it wasn't likely to be a positive outcome for him. He tried to think of a plan for escaped, but he was wedged into a backseat with Graftonites on either side of him, each with super reflexes. His lack of ability to think of a plan of escape depressed him.

Finally, they arrived at Quandry's ranch, and Croft was taken to his office.

"So we finally meet," said Quandry.

Croft shrugged, as if it was inconsequential to him.

Quandry motioned with his head. "Sit down, Mr. Croft," said Quandry, grinning as Croft realized he knew who he was. Croft hesitated, then sat down. Behind him he was flanked by two Graftonite killers.

"You've led us through quite a chase," said Quandry.

"I hope it was entertaining," said Croft.

"Not really," said Quandry, his face going stone cold.

"So what brings me here?" said Croft. "Have you decided to give up?"

Quandry laughed. "I don't think so, Mr. Croft. No, I brought you here to get some information."

"Information?"

"You are one of the most senior agents of the Column. I want to know what your people know about our plans and what you reported to them before we discovered... these....," he said, holding up one of Croft's listening devices.

"Your discussion about bombs being in the office building was a trap set to capture me," Croft realized.

"If you've only realized this now, you're not quite as clever as your reputation suggests," said Quandry, giving him a deprecating look. "Yes, once we discovered the devices, I thought of this plan to capture you. One of the Column's best, so easily snared."

"I'm surprised," said Croft.

"Surprised?"

"I didn't think you were that bright," said Croft.

Quandry's face was hard with rage, and he pointed a finger at Croft. Croft could see a zap gun box mounted on the back of his hand. "Take care, Mr. Croft. I have only to twist my finger slightly upwards to burn a pretty hole in your forehead."

"I wouldn't be able to give you very much information with a pretty hole in my forehead, would I?" Croft asked. "But I'm not very good at talking about myself; what about you? What do you hope to gain by this peace conference of yours? Surely you can't believe the League will give into your blackmail demands."

Quandry leaned back and grinned again. "On the contrary; there has been active discussion in the League of funding economic empowerment projects on Grafton."

"But surely not on the scale you're looking for," said Croft. "Do you really think they're going give you everything you want in the negotiations?"

"Who said anything about negotiations?" said Quandry, his grin shrinking into a small smile.

"Well, if you're not there to negotiate, what is the purpose of all this?" Croft asked. He studied Quandry's smile, as if that contained the answer. "The only other thing you could do... is take the diplomats as hostages," said Croft. "But that won't work. The League still won't pay billions to free a bunch of low level diplomats."

"Who said anything about taking hostages?" said Quandry, that odd small smile still on his face.

Croft looked at Quandry, generally puzzled for a minute. Then, with a tone of disbelief, he said, "You're simply going to kill them?"

"Not simply," said Quandry. "They will indeed be taken hostage for a short period, while we wait for your League to accede to our demands."

"Purposefully unreasonable demands," said Croft, suddenly understanding.

"At which time they'll be regrettably executed."

"You never intended for the League to accept your terms," Croft realized.

"I admit I was worried when I received feelers from the League saying they might pay several hundred million credits a year. That was when I had to increase my demand to several billion," said Quandry.

"But why are you turning down easy money?" said Croft.

Quandry just looked at him and continued to smile.

"If you accept the money the crisis will ease and you won't have a rallying point," said Croft. "This whole exercise is an attempt to rally support for your cause. You're going to provoke the League into attacking Grafton, so you can increase your base of support."

"Very good, Mr. Croft," said Quandry.

"But this makes no sense. Do you really want a full scale invasion of Grafton?"

"There will be no invasion," said Quandry bluntly. "But I will get what I need. How much of what you've said does your League know?"

"All of it," said Croft.

"I think not," said Quandry. "Your diplomats have agreed to attend our meeting, which is set to start in the next two hours. I hardly think they would agree to simply show up for their own execution, do you?"

Croft said nothing.

"But your League must have some suspicions, which is why they sent you. I want to know what they know, and how they will react to our plan."

Croft said nothing.

"I could kill you in an instant," said Quandry, half flexing his finger at Croft. Croft forced himself not to stare at the finger.

"But threats of death are probably wasted on you," said Quandry. "Anticipating this, I have called in a specialist."

"A specialist?"

"One who specializes in pain," said Quandry. "I think you'll find him most instructive. Unfortunately, you'll have little time to appreciate it as his subjects rarely survive for very long." Quandry checked his chronometer. "He will be here in a short time. In the meantime, we'll find a nice place to put you." He nodded slightly and the Graftonites around him gestured for Croft to get up.

"Goodbye, Mr. Croft," said Quandry.

"That has a ring of finality to it," said Croft.

"So it does," said Quandry. "Take him away."

********

Croft sat glumly behind a force field in an underground level of Quandry's ranch for several hours. He was rather depressed. He didn't have any great love for diplomats but even they didn't deserve to be slaughtered. At least Tane and the Clapper were free.

But what could they do? Tane was an analyst, and the Clapper had the mind of a child. They were both good at what they did, but were not operatives.

And what of Burundi? Croft had hardly been surprised when the Graftonite had switched sides. Still, there had been something odd about Burundi's conversation with Bates... even though he didn't like Croft, Burundi hadn't seemed happy to see Croft captured.

Well, maybe his unhappiness would be assuaged when he got his first paycheck from Quandry. That's all Graftonites cared about, their money.

Croft heard a door open in the room outside the forcefield, and a guard said something to the newcomer. The newcomer said something back. There was silence for a moment, and nobody moved or said anything.

Croft wondered what was going on when he heard blaster fire outside of his view, and then a crumpling sound as someone fell to the ground. His eyebrows went up as Burundi, holding a smoking blaster, stepped into view.

"I knew they had visiting hours here, but I didn't think you'd be the first to sign up," said Croft.

Burundi stared at Croft expressionlessly, as if he were considering something. Then, making a decision, he reached out and deactivated the forcefield.

Croft gingerly stepped out, seeing for the first time the smoking body of the guard on the ground. He looked inquiringly at Burundi.

"I still don't like you," said Burundi.

Croft continued to look inquiringly.

"Maybe I liked what they did, but not how they did it," said Burundi, responding to the unasked question. "Maybe there was something about them that annoyed me. Maybe I didn't like the fact that there was four of them against one of you. Maybe there was something in Bates' smile I didn't like. Maybe when he, an accomplished silver medalist, challenged me, a guy with a busted arm, to stand down, I found something unfair."

"And now?" said Croft.

Burundi raised his blaster, pointing it at Croft. "The only way you'll get out of here is if you're under armed escort."

"And what about you?" said Croft.

"I think I'm going to leave Grafton for a while," said Burundi. "Until things settle down. My arm is almost healed. I can find work to keep me busy."

"I'm sure you can," said Croft. He paused. "Would it mean anything if I thanked you?"

"Not really."

"That's what I thought."