Chapter 9 : Lay of the land
"You've got nothing to worry about from me" replied Harrigan cheerfully "It makes it so hard to buy anything if you go around killing people. Shopkeepers always seem reluctant to sell things to people covered up to their elbows in bloodstains and brain matter. Not to mention the fact that the local coppers won't like it either". He noticed the look of polite incomprehension on the face of the customs officer, and explained, "It's just a slang term for police officers. Considering the other ones I know, a fairly polite one as well".
She checked the first item off her list. OK, she mused, local politics. "Since we're neutral, most of the major powers maintain embassies or consulates here. There's usually some kind of intrigue going one between two or more of them. Scarran embassy's just over a kilometra that way" she added, pointing down one crowded street a little way across from the resupply shop "Peacekeepers, three or four kilometras that way", indicating another street, "and even the Nebari maintain a small consulate on the outer edge of the other side of this city. Some others base here too – Luxans, Charrids, even one or two Hynerians closer to the red zone. For the gambling"
"I'm going to need to meet a friendly transport captain. Me and my ship need to piggyback our way into the more travelled planets and look for an old friend of mine" Harrigan added. The science officer bade him goodbye at that point, thanking him for the money. Harrigan nodded, and turned back to the customs officer. "Most of the independent transport Captains frequent the pubs and gambling dens in or near the red zone." she explained warily "But that's where the majority of this city's criminal element work out of as well. Occasionally, we have to call the Peacekeepers in there when the local police are outmatched – but that hasn't happened for almost a whole cycle now"
"How do I get there?" Harrigan asked. As the customs officer started to explain, he added "Without encountering any more Scarrans". "Hmmm..." she pondered "You'll see a few wherever you go, but if you mean without encountering anyone from the embassy..." she looked at Harrigan for confirmation, who nodded "Then you need to go..." and pulled a small street map from a pocket. After drawing the suggested route on it, she passed it over. "I'll need a good weapons maker who's familiar with projectile weapons. I need more ammo and spare parts" added Harrigan. "If it was just off the shelf equipment, the resupply shop in there has most of it. But there's another one on your route" she added, marking the position "who may help you"
Harrigan fished out a couple of smaller stones and gave them to her. She looked at him suspiciously "Is that a bribe?!" she asked more nastily. "No, not at all" replied Harrigan "On my world, we'd call it a 'tip'. A reward for good service". He looked her over a little, and added "Besides, that ruby" indicating the red stone in her hand "will look good on a chain around your neck. It sets off your pale skin nicely"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- She actually blushed brightly in surprise at that. "One benefit of Nebari ancestry" she muttered. Harrigan corralled the nearest ship service tech and commanded him to fill up the Harbringer with fuel. "And add enough rations for two cycles as well. Plus fill up the drinking water supply and replace the scrubbers" he ordered. A price was settled and paid, then he turned back to the customs officer. "Why don't we stop off at that jeweller over there and pick out a pendant chain for that stone. My treat" Harrigan added chirpily, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her towards the stall. There were a few stunned looks from her fellow customs officers along the way, who thought that they would never see her in male company in public, plus a few risqué remarks from some of her female colleagues across the street. "I heard that!" yelled Harrigan "It had better be the last of it I hear as well!"
"You must have hyper-sensitive ears to catch what they were saying" she enquired as they crossed the street, ignoring the look of astounded surprise from her colleagues at being overheard. "One benefit of this damn body-alteration job" Harrigan muttered under his breath. She looked up at him, but he added, "It's not a danger to this planet" Harrigan explained. At least, he added in the privacy of his own thoughts, as long as the Scarrans lack the capability to resurrect the program. "And trust me, you really don't want to know" he finished "It's not very nice at all"
The jeweller looked up at Harrigan as he approached. "I don't want any trouble!" he stuttered, frightened "I've never hurt a Scarr-"but Harrigan cut him off before he could go any further. "Despite what you may think" he started "I am NOT Scarran, related to Scarrans, or possessed of any Scarran ancestry. And I DEFINITELY don't work for Scarrans. Officially or any other way". When the jeweller had calmed down, he continued, "I simply wish to do a little business. A pendant chain for the lady here. Onto which you will attach this stone". The jeweller was more relieved, now that this mysterious stranger appeared not be going to kill him, and actually wanted to pay for his services. "Well, sir" he explained "That is a most unusual stone. I do have an excellent chain and setting, but it is...". "Expensive?" Harrigan growled. "Well, yes" the jeweller replied. Harrigan pulled one of the smaller pieces of gold bar from his bag. "Will this be enough then?" he finished, giving the impression that it had better be.
The jeweller sliced off a tiny sample from the edge of the bar. "Just a few microts" he quavered "I must test it for authenticity". A quarter-arn later, he came back through the store's curtain. "That is excellent quality gold, sir. Only two-thirds of what you showed me will be necessary payment" he stated. "Slice off your portion, then" Harrigan replied. After the jeweller did so, Harrigan asked how long the job would take. "Approximately an arn, sir" the jeweller replied "Good work can't be hurried"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The customs officer arranged for a comrade to cover her shift, and followed him across the street. "How about something to eat?" she asked. "It's my lunch break, and it's been a while since I had some company". Harrigan smiled, and responded "Of course. I'm really hungry. I could eat half the street. Does anywhere round here serve spicy food?". She frowned a little. "We can go elsewhere if you don't like spicy..." Harrigan enquired. "No, no" she reassured him "It's not that. There's a great place not far from that gunmaker you need to see. But it's a bit closer to the red zone than I usually like to go. The damn Deadheads have been active round there recently".
Harrigan perked up at that. "Who are they?" he asked. "It's the slang name for the Scarran High Command's intelligence directorate commandos" she replied uneasily. "Nobody's got any proof of their presence, but we're pretty sure there's a small detachment operating out of the Scarran Embassy. They like to use the red zone for training exercises. The only reason we don't issue a diplomatic complaint is that it keeps the crime under control. But their 'exercises' often spill over into adjoining streets, which means people die". "The other reason you don't complain, of course" Harrigan added "is that complaints like that would mean a dreadnaught battlegroup parked off your doorstep". She turned to look at Harrigan's face, which was an unreadable mask "How well you know the Scarran mindset" she replied. "I haven't known many Scarrans, but they're not that subtle. It isn't that hard to figure out" he countered "Anyway, how about lunch?"
They reached the premises in question without incident. The lunchtime customers were a fairly rough looking lot, definitely not the upper class of society, and didn't seem to like the idea of a police officer in their place. The barman looked questioningly at her, but she responded "Off duty" which eased the atmosphere considerably. Then Harrigan came in. While the door was wide enough, having been design for two normal people to go through side by side, height was entirely different. Harrigan ducked as he entered, but his head only missed the ceiling by a fingerwidth or two once he was inside. His exceptional bulk surprised even the barman. "I've seen Sebaceans, Nebari, Charrids, even a few Luxans and Scarrans" he exclaimed to the customs officer while Harrigan was hunting for a chair that wouldn't break under his weight "but never have I seen anyone that positively huge before. What is he?"
"Don't know, actually" she replied "He said it's perhaps the second time anyone from his planet has been out this far". Harrigan had given up trying to find a chair, and sat in a side booth which had a raised padded platform made of local rock to sit on. He beckoned her over to sit, and the barman followed her over. "So what'll it be?" he asked. "The lady here" Harrigan said "said you serve great spicy food here".
"We do indeed have an excellent spicy dish here, a regional speciality" he replied "But it is extremely strong, it originated with a Luxan chef. Most people can't stand more than one fairly small helping". He pointed up at a scrawled notation over the bar. "That shows the current record of how much someone managed to eat" Harrigan was rubbing his hands together with glee. "No liquids until after the challenge, if you're inclined to try and beat the record" finished the barman.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- Harrigan actually laughed. "Bring it on!" he yelled "Today the record falls to Lieutenant John Harrigan!". The customs officer selected something milder for herself, and a glass of fellip nectar. One customer yelled out "Challenge!", and the bar's lunchtime patrons gathered round the entrance to the booth to watch.
The barman brought out a great steaming bowl, which Harrigan grabbed out of his hands eagerly. "It does have a good kick doesn't it?" Harrigan asked, half way down the bowl. He upended the bowl and swallowed the rest. "Next!". The barman rushed back to the kitchen to refill the bowl. "Have you been diluting that stuff?" he asked the chef. "No" the chef responded, shocked "Apart from anything else, you can tell by the taste if anyone's done that. Why?". "Because we've got a giant out there who's just chugged down this entire bowlful!" the barman responded, a little awed "He's already broken the record twice over, and shows no sign of stopping! Pass that pot! We'll see if he finishes that off!"
Harrigan saw the chef wheel out the huge pot on a trolley. "Someone managed to find a decent-sized bowl at last!" he said happily, and immediately piled into that as well. Half an arn later, Harrigan licked his lips as he scraped out the bottom of the pot. He was just about to order pudding and drinks when a commotion erupted out on the street. One of the customers went out to look, and staggered straight back in bleeding all over. "Deadheads on the rampage!" he breathed quietly, and collapsed. The barman summoned an ambulance for his customer and was about to open the back door so the customers could leave when seven heavily armed Scarrans burst in. "NO ONE'S GOING ANYWHERE!" the leader yelled. The customs officer was scrunched up against the back of the wall. "What's up?" asked Harrigan. "These are those Deadheads I told you about. A right bunch of hard-nuts" she replied, scared. "We'll see about that" Harrigan replied gruffly "I really hate it when people interrupt my eating". He yanked the cocking lever on his G8 and stuck his head out of the booth to watch. The leader was just starting to rough up the barman when Harrigan made his move.
He flicked the fire-selector to 'semi' and fired a single round straight through the Deadhead leader's left eyeball. The results were most satisfactory, blasting pulped Scarran head (plus all the contents thereof) over the wall and floor for several feet behind the hapless now-dead commando. The rest of the team assumed defensive positions, and the XO stepped forward. "The perpetrator will step forward and answer for killing a Scarran officer" he said in a harsh, clipped monotone "Or I order my team to kill everyone in this place"
Harrigan, still in the booth, muttered "Suits me fine" under his breath. He turned to the customs officer. "I'm sorry I've been such bad company" he apologised "But I've got this thing about challenges like that. Stay down. I'll be back for you when I've dealt with this lot"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The Deadheads turned to look as Harrigan levered himself slowly out of the booth. It was patently obvious to even the most complacent Scarran that this was no ordinary man.
"Right!" Harrigan growled, looking over each of the Deadhead team in turn. Unlike many, they stood straight and returned his glare unflinchingly "Which of you whimpering curs debased the whole brotherhood of warriors by threatening civilians?!" The Scarrans were shocked at his tone. Many of them hadn't heard such tones since Deadhead orientation training; they certainly didn't expect it from non-Scarrans. Any who tried that on usually ended up dead shortly afterwards (which was part of the reason they got their name).
The XO stepped forward. "I am he" he growled back nastily "And are you the one who blew the head off our leader without warning?" Harrigan sniggered at that. "It's called sniping" he explained "A perfectly valid military tactic. Don't like being on the receiving end now, do we?" The Scarran XO was rapidly losing his patience, and blurted out "Let's leave the guns out. I wish to challenge you in combat. Unarmed" Harrigan paused at this. He'd not had much unarmed combat training back on Earth – it wasn't considered an important part of warfare anymore there. He had some experience in amateur wrestling – his strength would help him there. But even so, the Scarran outmatched him in skill by a considerable margin. "Outside" he said finally "In the street. No need to destroy the bar". The Scarran agreed, leading the remains of his team outside.
The barman came over, whispering to Harrigan. "It's all very fine standing up for us" he explained "but that's not a common thug over there. He's military. Scarran military". Harrigan nodded, and replied "I know. I've had dealings with Scarran regulars before. Anyway, I'm military, too. Special Operations, too. It'll be interesting to see what training my Scarran counterpart has". He slung the G8 back over his shoulder, tightening the sling to make sure it wouldn't shift at a critical moment, and marched out to meet him.
By now, it was mid-afternoon. Shift workers coming to and from work rapidly spread word that someone was taking on a Deadhead down near the redzone. The space around them filled up with interested locals. A few more police turned up as well, but stood well clear. The Scarran handed his guns to a team-mate, then moved in cautiously, hands ready to strike. Harrigan just stood there, watching carefully. The first move came almost too quickly to see. Only Harrigan's enhanced nervous system enabled him to sense and dodge the Scorvian neural stroke that was the Scarran's opening move. "Though I don't recognise that move" Harrigan said, moving slowly around "it was undoubtedly deadly. So be it!" and launched three quick, solid punches at the Scarran's midsection. He avoided the first two, but couldn't entirely dodge the last one. The edge of Harrigan's huge fist caught him under the ribcage, spinning him around, knocking the breath out of him, and depositing him firmly on his butt in the street.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- A short burst of laughter came from some of the locals safely out of Scarran reach, which only enraged the Scarran further. He charged in, launching a hard kick to what would have been the head of a normal person. But Harrigan's extreme size meant that the Scarran's foot hit one of the thickest parts of his carapace, which happened to be backed by the strongest and densest bone masses in his entire body. Harrigan wobbled slightly but shook it off. "Not bad" he responded "That might actually leave a bruise for a while". The Scarran was not so fortunate. He'd broken several bones in his foot and was in considerable pain. He swallowed a couple of painkillers, waited for them to kick in, and went on the attack again.
The one female member of the team stood back, watching dispassionately. This interloper was absolutely enormous, she thought. Her leader needed to move fast and deviously to have any hope of winning, but as she well knew once a Scarran's blood was up it was next to impossible to get them to listen to reason. That last kick should have smashed the target's shoulder into tiny shards – but it had barely fazed him. She wasn't yet aware that Harrigan's vastly altered body made him virtually immune to unarmed combat with anything smaller than a horse, and even then it'd wish it had never been born. If she had been, she would have dragged her leader away kicking and screaming if necessary. She fingered the hilts of her twin shortswords, slung over her shoulders. But her leader wouldn't thank her for interfering in a duel, even if it saved his life. Besides, there was something interesting about this unusual newcomer...
Harrigan felt he was beginning to get the measure of the Scarran. He was very fast, true, but Harrigan's own enhanced capabilities were starting to kick in, fuelled by the adrenaline rushing through his system. When the next blow came, a high kick to Harrigan's head, he moved at such speed that the Scarran could barely track him. Once behind him he landed a brutal overhead axehandle blow to the Scarran's collarbone, snapping it like a rice cookie. The Scarran's scream of pain as he collapsed to the street was heard for almost a whole kilometra of business district. Even the more seasoned bar-brawlers present backed away from Harrigan as he moved around the Scarran. Grabbing the Scarran in a sleeperhold, Harrigan hung on. It took a lot longer than a human, but the Scarran slowly turned blue (even more so than usual), then purple, then fell unconscious on the tarmac.
Virtually the whole street cheered loudly for some time after that. Seeing that the local police feared a riot, or even a lynching of the remaining Scarrans, Harrigan shouted "QUIET!" at the top of his extremely loud voice. The street immediately went dead quiet. Not even the most uppity onlooker dared make a noise.
Harrigan turned to the Scarran team. "You'd better get your mate down there" he ordered, pointing to the still pain-filled moaning and groaning team leader "to medical attention fast. One of you" Harrigan added, staring at the squad "had better get along to your embassy right NOW" he emphasised "and grab a couple of medtechs. The rest of the squad, plus myself, will stay here to make sure he's still alive when you return"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- "How can we be sure you won't just kill him, or let the crowd here lynch him?" shouted one of the other Deadheads. The female thought that this was unlikely. This man obviously held himself to certain ideals, and killing her team leader now wouldn't enhance his self-image now one iota, she thought.
She was proven right when Harrigan replied. "If he dies today, it won't be at my hand. He can hardly learn the error of his ways if he's dead, can he? And since this crowd's held back mostly by a fear of me, plus these fine police officers" he added, gesturing at the local police gathered close by, "your leader here should be safe for a short while. But I'd hurry, if I were you, because even a Scarran can't stand those injuries for long. The same Deadhead nodded, and rushed down the street to the embassy, a little over a kilometra away.
He must have kept going the whole way non-stop, because a half-arn later a Scarran embassy crash wagon screamed up to the knot of people. Many had left now the fight was over, but some still hung on to see what happened next. "MOVE! MOVE!" yelled one Scarran medic, as a pair of them rushed to their fallen fellow. After securing his upper body, they lifted him on a stretcher, jabbed him full of painkiller and slid him in the back of their vehicle. As the vehicle drove off, one driver was heard to say "What happened to him? Did a passing vehicle run him down?". Harrigan refrained from yelling out that it was him, as he didn't want the whole embassy on him.
He walked over to the bar, where the customs officer was waiting outside, chatting to the barman. "How much do we owe you for lunch?" Harrigan asked, reaching for his backpack. The barman waved him off. "Don't worry about it" he assured Harrigan "That whole episode will be bringing streams of customers to my place for cycles!" he laughed. A local newspaper photographer snapped his photo. Harrigan put his arm around the customs officer's shoulder and grinned. The photographer snapped another one and moved on. "The publicity I'll get from that more than pays for your bottomless appetite" he continued "But if you don't mind...". The barman explained swiftly what he needed. Harrigan laughed out loud, and scrawled something down on a notepad a friendly police officer provided.
"What was that about?" asked the customs officer, perplexed, after the barman had left. "Just a short testimonial" Harrigan responded lightly "You know, for advertising. 'When Lieutenant Harrigan needs giant-killing food, he goes to...', that kind of thing". She laughed hard at Harrigan's reply. When she had calmed down, she said "Let's go back and find that jeweller. He's probably wondering where's we've gone".
They found the jeweller still at his shop. "I heard about your little altercation" he cut in before Harrigan could get started "It's about time those Scarrans got taught a lesson. The kind of lesson you gave them is the only kind they'd listen to as well. That should keep them quiet for a half-cycle or so. Here" he said, lifting the chain with its pendant from under the counter "Your chain, ma'am police officer".
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- She gasped in surprise. "It's so beautiful..." she said, lost for words. Harrigan bent down and fastened it around her neck. While he remained within reach, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could manage. Harrigan hugged her back, and stood back up, lifting her right off the ground. They both laughed at that, the rest of the marketplace looking round in surprise at this odd couple.
The female Deadhead was watching from under a shop's overhang across the plaza. Considering this strange newcomer's considerable capabilities, she decided to err on the side of caution and stayed in the shadows. So far she had stayed undetected, though she knew this was at least in part due to the fact he hadn't been given a reason to be more wary. Though right now she wanted to go over and throttle that Nebari half-breed customs officer with him. Something about seeing them together touched off brief fits of the most insane jealousy, and she couldn't figure out why. He is an excellent soldier, she rationalised to herself, and willing to stand up for those he considers under his protection. That's why. There are many in the Deadheads, she knew, who could learn much from this man. Too many can't shake off the desire to charge head-first into combat – in intel operations, where stealth is paramount, this has lost us missions, and STILL they don't learn! She turned back to the welcome shadows of the nearest shop to make her report to her superiors.
They headed down a different street. "That gun dealer you need is down here" the customs officer explained, as Harrigan's brow crinkled in surprise. "Since most shops rarely close, there should be someone on call even at this hour". It was early evening, and the sky was beginning to darken slightly. A few hundred microts later, they reached an unassuming open window in the wall. "Oi!" the customs officer yelled "I've brought you a customer!". An old Luxan walked out, with the aid of a walking stick. Knowing Luxans as she did, she'd bet he'd still be able to beat an unwary mugger to death with that stick, probably enjoying every minute of it.
"Oh, yes" he said, voice still strong. "So you have. How can I help you?". Harrigan looked over the examples of his handiwork on the walls inside the shop, and explained his needs. "I'll need a heavier-calibre suppressed barrel for my gun here" he said, lifting up the G8. "And plenty of heavyweight subsonic ammo. Steel needle-nose" he added. "That I can do" the gun dealer said , looking the G8 over, prodding and muttering "But first I'll need to see blueprints if you have them. Otherwise, it'll take ten times as long for my autofactories to make it from scratch"
Harrigan reached in to his backpack and came out holing a roll of several large sheets of laminated paper. "Here" he stated, handing them over "Make a copy for yourself, but I want those originals back. Plus a copy of blueprints that include the modifications you make"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The dealer quickly made copies, bringing the originals back. Harrigan issued one final order. "That gun's pinpoint accurate at up to about 500 metras in single-shot mode. Make sure it stays that way". "That can be done, but will make it more expensive" the dealer responded. "It'll be worth it" Harrigan threw back "But don't push your luck. I'll pay a good fee for good work, but I get annoyed when people try to fleece me". "Is that so?!" growled the Luxan. Then after reining in his temper, he boasted "Be assured, I'm the best projectile weapon specialist in this whole city, maybe even the entire planet! I can do anything you ask!" Harrigan passed over the remainder of the gold from the transaction with the jeweller "A down-payment" Harrigan explained "Just to show I'm serious, to give you a proper incentive to do your best".
The Luxan weighed the gold in his hand. Then he tested a small shaving in a small chemistry setup he kept in the back of his shop. Then he flicked it once or twice with his thumb. It had that rich, unmistakeable thunk of solid gold. "Very good" he said "Come back tomorrow, three arns after sunrise. I'll get my colleague up, and we'll work through the night for this". "Keep a copy of the final blueprints for yourself" Harrigan said over his shoulder as he turned to go "Make some for your own business. That weapon is an excellent design. It will make you much money". Then he took the hand of the customs officer and together they walked back towards the spaceport.
"I'll have to head back to quarters to get some sleep" she said as they neared the spaceport. "I could probably arrange guest quarters there if you'd like?" "Thank you, but I'll sleep in my ship" Harrigan responded "Anyway, it wouldn't do your career any good if it's suspected you're sleeping with a ship captain. People will think it too, especially if those girlfriends of yours are any indication of the general police population". Though she was slightly upset at that, she smiled and waved him goodnight.
Harrigan made his way back to the spaceport without further incident. Once he got back inside the Harbringer, he asked if the ship had detected any disturbances nearby, or if any messages were received. He then shut all external doors, set the alarm for two arns after local sunrise, and fell fast asleep in the bunkroom.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
"You've got nothing to worry about from me" replied Harrigan cheerfully "It makes it so hard to buy anything if you go around killing people. Shopkeepers always seem reluctant to sell things to people covered up to their elbows in bloodstains and brain matter. Not to mention the fact that the local coppers won't like it either". He noticed the look of polite incomprehension on the face of the customs officer, and explained, "It's just a slang term for police officers. Considering the other ones I know, a fairly polite one as well".
She checked the first item off her list. OK, she mused, local politics. "Since we're neutral, most of the major powers maintain embassies or consulates here. There's usually some kind of intrigue going one between two or more of them. Scarran embassy's just over a kilometra that way" she added, pointing down one crowded street a little way across from the resupply shop "Peacekeepers, three or four kilometras that way", indicating another street, "and even the Nebari maintain a small consulate on the outer edge of the other side of this city. Some others base here too – Luxans, Charrids, even one or two Hynerians closer to the red zone. For the gambling"
"I'm going to need to meet a friendly transport captain. Me and my ship need to piggyback our way into the more travelled planets and look for an old friend of mine" Harrigan added. The science officer bade him goodbye at that point, thanking him for the money. Harrigan nodded, and turned back to the customs officer. "Most of the independent transport Captains frequent the pubs and gambling dens in or near the red zone." she explained warily "But that's where the majority of this city's criminal element work out of as well. Occasionally, we have to call the Peacekeepers in there when the local police are outmatched – but that hasn't happened for almost a whole cycle now"
"How do I get there?" Harrigan asked. As the customs officer started to explain, he added "Without encountering any more Scarrans". "Hmmm..." she pondered "You'll see a few wherever you go, but if you mean without encountering anyone from the embassy..." she looked at Harrigan for confirmation, who nodded "Then you need to go..." and pulled a small street map from a pocket. After drawing the suggested route on it, she passed it over. "I'll need a good weapons maker who's familiar with projectile weapons. I need more ammo and spare parts" added Harrigan. "If it was just off the shelf equipment, the resupply shop in there has most of it. But there's another one on your route" she added, marking the position "who may help you"
Harrigan fished out a couple of smaller stones and gave them to her. She looked at him suspiciously "Is that a bribe?!" she asked more nastily. "No, not at all" replied Harrigan "On my world, we'd call it a 'tip'. A reward for good service". He looked her over a little, and added "Besides, that ruby" indicating the red stone in her hand "will look good on a chain around your neck. It sets off your pale skin nicely"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- She actually blushed brightly in surprise at that. "One benefit of Nebari ancestry" she muttered. Harrigan corralled the nearest ship service tech and commanded him to fill up the Harbringer with fuel. "And add enough rations for two cycles as well. Plus fill up the drinking water supply and replace the scrubbers" he ordered. A price was settled and paid, then he turned back to the customs officer. "Why don't we stop off at that jeweller over there and pick out a pendant chain for that stone. My treat" Harrigan added chirpily, putting an arm around her shoulders and leading her towards the stall. There were a few stunned looks from her fellow customs officers along the way, who thought that they would never see her in male company in public, plus a few risqué remarks from some of her female colleagues across the street. "I heard that!" yelled Harrigan "It had better be the last of it I hear as well!"
"You must have hyper-sensitive ears to catch what they were saying" she enquired as they crossed the street, ignoring the look of astounded surprise from her colleagues at being overheard. "One benefit of this damn body-alteration job" Harrigan muttered under his breath. She looked up at him, but he added, "It's not a danger to this planet" Harrigan explained. At least, he added in the privacy of his own thoughts, as long as the Scarrans lack the capability to resurrect the program. "And trust me, you really don't want to know" he finished "It's not very nice at all"
The jeweller looked up at Harrigan as he approached. "I don't want any trouble!" he stuttered, frightened "I've never hurt a Scarr-"but Harrigan cut him off before he could go any further. "Despite what you may think" he started "I am NOT Scarran, related to Scarrans, or possessed of any Scarran ancestry. And I DEFINITELY don't work for Scarrans. Officially or any other way". When the jeweller had calmed down, he continued, "I simply wish to do a little business. A pendant chain for the lady here. Onto which you will attach this stone". The jeweller was more relieved, now that this mysterious stranger appeared not be going to kill him, and actually wanted to pay for his services. "Well, sir" he explained "That is a most unusual stone. I do have an excellent chain and setting, but it is...". "Expensive?" Harrigan growled. "Well, yes" the jeweller replied. Harrigan pulled one of the smaller pieces of gold bar from his bag. "Will this be enough then?" he finished, giving the impression that it had better be.
The jeweller sliced off a tiny sample from the edge of the bar. "Just a few microts" he quavered "I must test it for authenticity". A quarter-arn later, he came back through the store's curtain. "That is excellent quality gold, sir. Only two-thirds of what you showed me will be necessary payment" he stated. "Slice off your portion, then" Harrigan replied. After the jeweller did so, Harrigan asked how long the job would take. "Approximately an arn, sir" the jeweller replied "Good work can't be hurried"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The customs officer arranged for a comrade to cover her shift, and followed him across the street. "How about something to eat?" she asked. "It's my lunch break, and it's been a while since I had some company". Harrigan smiled, and responded "Of course. I'm really hungry. I could eat half the street. Does anywhere round here serve spicy food?". She frowned a little. "We can go elsewhere if you don't like spicy..." Harrigan enquired. "No, no" she reassured him "It's not that. There's a great place not far from that gunmaker you need to see. But it's a bit closer to the red zone than I usually like to go. The damn Deadheads have been active round there recently".
Harrigan perked up at that. "Who are they?" he asked. "It's the slang name for the Scarran High Command's intelligence directorate commandos" she replied uneasily. "Nobody's got any proof of their presence, but we're pretty sure there's a small detachment operating out of the Scarran Embassy. They like to use the red zone for training exercises. The only reason we don't issue a diplomatic complaint is that it keeps the crime under control. But their 'exercises' often spill over into adjoining streets, which means people die". "The other reason you don't complain, of course" Harrigan added "is that complaints like that would mean a dreadnaught battlegroup parked off your doorstep". She turned to look at Harrigan's face, which was an unreadable mask "How well you know the Scarran mindset" she replied. "I haven't known many Scarrans, but they're not that subtle. It isn't that hard to figure out" he countered "Anyway, how about lunch?"
They reached the premises in question without incident. The lunchtime customers were a fairly rough looking lot, definitely not the upper class of society, and didn't seem to like the idea of a police officer in their place. The barman looked questioningly at her, but she responded "Off duty" which eased the atmosphere considerably. Then Harrigan came in. While the door was wide enough, having been design for two normal people to go through side by side, height was entirely different. Harrigan ducked as he entered, but his head only missed the ceiling by a fingerwidth or two once he was inside. His exceptional bulk surprised even the barman. "I've seen Sebaceans, Nebari, Charrids, even a few Luxans and Scarrans" he exclaimed to the customs officer while Harrigan was hunting for a chair that wouldn't break under his weight "but never have I seen anyone that positively huge before. What is he?"
"Don't know, actually" she replied "He said it's perhaps the second time anyone from his planet has been out this far". Harrigan had given up trying to find a chair, and sat in a side booth which had a raised padded platform made of local rock to sit on. He beckoned her over to sit, and the barman followed her over. "So what'll it be?" he asked. "The lady here" Harrigan said "said you serve great spicy food here".
"We do indeed have an excellent spicy dish here, a regional speciality" he replied "But it is extremely strong, it originated with a Luxan chef. Most people can't stand more than one fairly small helping". He pointed up at a scrawled notation over the bar. "That shows the current record of how much someone managed to eat" Harrigan was rubbing his hands together with glee. "No liquids until after the challenge, if you're inclined to try and beat the record" finished the barman.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- Harrigan actually laughed. "Bring it on!" he yelled "Today the record falls to Lieutenant John Harrigan!". The customs officer selected something milder for herself, and a glass of fellip nectar. One customer yelled out "Challenge!", and the bar's lunchtime patrons gathered round the entrance to the booth to watch.
The barman brought out a great steaming bowl, which Harrigan grabbed out of his hands eagerly. "It does have a good kick doesn't it?" Harrigan asked, half way down the bowl. He upended the bowl and swallowed the rest. "Next!". The barman rushed back to the kitchen to refill the bowl. "Have you been diluting that stuff?" he asked the chef. "No" the chef responded, shocked "Apart from anything else, you can tell by the taste if anyone's done that. Why?". "Because we've got a giant out there who's just chugged down this entire bowlful!" the barman responded, a little awed "He's already broken the record twice over, and shows no sign of stopping! Pass that pot! We'll see if he finishes that off!"
Harrigan saw the chef wheel out the huge pot on a trolley. "Someone managed to find a decent-sized bowl at last!" he said happily, and immediately piled into that as well. Half an arn later, Harrigan licked his lips as he scraped out the bottom of the pot. He was just about to order pudding and drinks when a commotion erupted out on the street. One of the customers went out to look, and staggered straight back in bleeding all over. "Deadheads on the rampage!" he breathed quietly, and collapsed. The barman summoned an ambulance for his customer and was about to open the back door so the customers could leave when seven heavily armed Scarrans burst in. "NO ONE'S GOING ANYWHERE!" the leader yelled. The customs officer was scrunched up against the back of the wall. "What's up?" asked Harrigan. "These are those Deadheads I told you about. A right bunch of hard-nuts" she replied, scared. "We'll see about that" Harrigan replied gruffly "I really hate it when people interrupt my eating". He yanked the cocking lever on his G8 and stuck his head out of the booth to watch. The leader was just starting to rough up the barman when Harrigan made his move.
He flicked the fire-selector to 'semi' and fired a single round straight through the Deadhead leader's left eyeball. The results were most satisfactory, blasting pulped Scarran head (plus all the contents thereof) over the wall and floor for several feet behind the hapless now-dead commando. The rest of the team assumed defensive positions, and the XO stepped forward. "The perpetrator will step forward and answer for killing a Scarran officer" he said in a harsh, clipped monotone "Or I order my team to kill everyone in this place"
Harrigan, still in the booth, muttered "Suits me fine" under his breath. He turned to the customs officer. "I'm sorry I've been such bad company" he apologised "But I've got this thing about challenges like that. Stay down. I'll be back for you when I've dealt with this lot"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The Deadheads turned to look as Harrigan levered himself slowly out of the booth. It was patently obvious to even the most complacent Scarran that this was no ordinary man.
"Right!" Harrigan growled, looking over each of the Deadhead team in turn. Unlike many, they stood straight and returned his glare unflinchingly "Which of you whimpering curs debased the whole brotherhood of warriors by threatening civilians?!" The Scarrans were shocked at his tone. Many of them hadn't heard such tones since Deadhead orientation training; they certainly didn't expect it from non-Scarrans. Any who tried that on usually ended up dead shortly afterwards (which was part of the reason they got their name).
The XO stepped forward. "I am he" he growled back nastily "And are you the one who blew the head off our leader without warning?" Harrigan sniggered at that. "It's called sniping" he explained "A perfectly valid military tactic. Don't like being on the receiving end now, do we?" The Scarran XO was rapidly losing his patience, and blurted out "Let's leave the guns out. I wish to challenge you in combat. Unarmed" Harrigan paused at this. He'd not had much unarmed combat training back on Earth – it wasn't considered an important part of warfare anymore there. He had some experience in amateur wrestling – his strength would help him there. But even so, the Scarran outmatched him in skill by a considerable margin. "Outside" he said finally "In the street. No need to destroy the bar". The Scarran agreed, leading the remains of his team outside.
The barman came over, whispering to Harrigan. "It's all very fine standing up for us" he explained "but that's not a common thug over there. He's military. Scarran military". Harrigan nodded, and replied "I know. I've had dealings with Scarran regulars before. Anyway, I'm military, too. Special Operations, too. It'll be interesting to see what training my Scarran counterpart has". He slung the G8 back over his shoulder, tightening the sling to make sure it wouldn't shift at a critical moment, and marched out to meet him.
By now, it was mid-afternoon. Shift workers coming to and from work rapidly spread word that someone was taking on a Deadhead down near the redzone. The space around them filled up with interested locals. A few more police turned up as well, but stood well clear. The Scarran handed his guns to a team-mate, then moved in cautiously, hands ready to strike. Harrigan just stood there, watching carefully. The first move came almost too quickly to see. Only Harrigan's enhanced nervous system enabled him to sense and dodge the Scorvian neural stroke that was the Scarran's opening move. "Though I don't recognise that move" Harrigan said, moving slowly around "it was undoubtedly deadly. So be it!" and launched three quick, solid punches at the Scarran's midsection. He avoided the first two, but couldn't entirely dodge the last one. The edge of Harrigan's huge fist caught him under the ribcage, spinning him around, knocking the breath out of him, and depositing him firmly on his butt in the street.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- A short burst of laughter came from some of the locals safely out of Scarran reach, which only enraged the Scarran further. He charged in, launching a hard kick to what would have been the head of a normal person. But Harrigan's extreme size meant that the Scarran's foot hit one of the thickest parts of his carapace, which happened to be backed by the strongest and densest bone masses in his entire body. Harrigan wobbled slightly but shook it off. "Not bad" he responded "That might actually leave a bruise for a while". The Scarran was not so fortunate. He'd broken several bones in his foot and was in considerable pain. He swallowed a couple of painkillers, waited for them to kick in, and went on the attack again.
The one female member of the team stood back, watching dispassionately. This interloper was absolutely enormous, she thought. Her leader needed to move fast and deviously to have any hope of winning, but as she well knew once a Scarran's blood was up it was next to impossible to get them to listen to reason. That last kick should have smashed the target's shoulder into tiny shards – but it had barely fazed him. She wasn't yet aware that Harrigan's vastly altered body made him virtually immune to unarmed combat with anything smaller than a horse, and even then it'd wish it had never been born. If she had been, she would have dragged her leader away kicking and screaming if necessary. She fingered the hilts of her twin shortswords, slung over her shoulders. But her leader wouldn't thank her for interfering in a duel, even if it saved his life. Besides, there was something interesting about this unusual newcomer...
Harrigan felt he was beginning to get the measure of the Scarran. He was very fast, true, but Harrigan's own enhanced capabilities were starting to kick in, fuelled by the adrenaline rushing through his system. When the next blow came, a high kick to Harrigan's head, he moved at such speed that the Scarran could barely track him. Once behind him he landed a brutal overhead axehandle blow to the Scarran's collarbone, snapping it like a rice cookie. The Scarran's scream of pain as he collapsed to the street was heard for almost a whole kilometra of business district. Even the more seasoned bar-brawlers present backed away from Harrigan as he moved around the Scarran. Grabbing the Scarran in a sleeperhold, Harrigan hung on. It took a lot longer than a human, but the Scarran slowly turned blue (even more so than usual), then purple, then fell unconscious on the tarmac.
Virtually the whole street cheered loudly for some time after that. Seeing that the local police feared a riot, or even a lynching of the remaining Scarrans, Harrigan shouted "QUIET!" at the top of his extremely loud voice. The street immediately went dead quiet. Not even the most uppity onlooker dared make a noise.
Harrigan turned to the Scarran team. "You'd better get your mate down there" he ordered, pointing to the still pain-filled moaning and groaning team leader "to medical attention fast. One of you" Harrigan added, staring at the squad "had better get along to your embassy right NOW" he emphasised "and grab a couple of medtechs. The rest of the squad, plus myself, will stay here to make sure he's still alive when you return"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- "How can we be sure you won't just kill him, or let the crowd here lynch him?" shouted one of the other Deadheads. The female thought that this was unlikely. This man obviously held himself to certain ideals, and killing her team leader now wouldn't enhance his self-image now one iota, she thought.
She was proven right when Harrigan replied. "If he dies today, it won't be at my hand. He can hardly learn the error of his ways if he's dead, can he? And since this crowd's held back mostly by a fear of me, plus these fine police officers" he added, gesturing at the local police gathered close by, "your leader here should be safe for a short while. But I'd hurry, if I were you, because even a Scarran can't stand those injuries for long. The same Deadhead nodded, and rushed down the street to the embassy, a little over a kilometra away.
He must have kept going the whole way non-stop, because a half-arn later a Scarran embassy crash wagon screamed up to the knot of people. Many had left now the fight was over, but some still hung on to see what happened next. "MOVE! MOVE!" yelled one Scarran medic, as a pair of them rushed to their fallen fellow. After securing his upper body, they lifted him on a stretcher, jabbed him full of painkiller and slid him in the back of their vehicle. As the vehicle drove off, one driver was heard to say "What happened to him? Did a passing vehicle run him down?". Harrigan refrained from yelling out that it was him, as he didn't want the whole embassy on him.
He walked over to the bar, where the customs officer was waiting outside, chatting to the barman. "How much do we owe you for lunch?" Harrigan asked, reaching for his backpack. The barman waved him off. "Don't worry about it" he assured Harrigan "That whole episode will be bringing streams of customers to my place for cycles!" he laughed. A local newspaper photographer snapped his photo. Harrigan put his arm around the customs officer's shoulder and grinned. The photographer snapped another one and moved on. "The publicity I'll get from that more than pays for your bottomless appetite" he continued "But if you don't mind...". The barman explained swiftly what he needed. Harrigan laughed out loud, and scrawled something down on a notepad a friendly police officer provided.
"What was that about?" asked the customs officer, perplexed, after the barman had left. "Just a short testimonial" Harrigan responded lightly "You know, for advertising. 'When Lieutenant Harrigan needs giant-killing food, he goes to...', that kind of thing". She laughed hard at Harrigan's reply. When she had calmed down, she said "Let's go back and find that jeweller. He's probably wondering where's we've gone".
They found the jeweller still at his shop. "I heard about your little altercation" he cut in before Harrigan could get started "It's about time those Scarrans got taught a lesson. The kind of lesson you gave them is the only kind they'd listen to as well. That should keep them quiet for a half-cycle or so. Here" he said, lifting the chain with its pendant from under the counter "Your chain, ma'am police officer".
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- She gasped in surprise. "It's so beautiful..." she said, lost for words. Harrigan bent down and fastened it around her neck. While he remained within reach, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could manage. Harrigan hugged her back, and stood back up, lifting her right off the ground. They both laughed at that, the rest of the marketplace looking round in surprise at this odd couple.
The female Deadhead was watching from under a shop's overhang across the plaza. Considering this strange newcomer's considerable capabilities, she decided to err on the side of caution and stayed in the shadows. So far she had stayed undetected, though she knew this was at least in part due to the fact he hadn't been given a reason to be more wary. Though right now she wanted to go over and throttle that Nebari half-breed customs officer with him. Something about seeing them together touched off brief fits of the most insane jealousy, and she couldn't figure out why. He is an excellent soldier, she rationalised to herself, and willing to stand up for those he considers under his protection. That's why. There are many in the Deadheads, she knew, who could learn much from this man. Too many can't shake off the desire to charge head-first into combat – in intel operations, where stealth is paramount, this has lost us missions, and STILL they don't learn! She turned back to the welcome shadows of the nearest shop to make her report to her superiors.
They headed down a different street. "That gun dealer you need is down here" the customs officer explained, as Harrigan's brow crinkled in surprise. "Since most shops rarely close, there should be someone on call even at this hour". It was early evening, and the sky was beginning to darken slightly. A few hundred microts later, they reached an unassuming open window in the wall. "Oi!" the customs officer yelled "I've brought you a customer!". An old Luxan walked out, with the aid of a walking stick. Knowing Luxans as she did, she'd bet he'd still be able to beat an unwary mugger to death with that stick, probably enjoying every minute of it.
"Oh, yes" he said, voice still strong. "So you have. How can I help you?". Harrigan looked over the examples of his handiwork on the walls inside the shop, and explained his needs. "I'll need a heavier-calibre suppressed barrel for my gun here" he said, lifting up the G8. "And plenty of heavyweight subsonic ammo. Steel needle-nose" he added. "That I can do" the gun dealer said , looking the G8 over, prodding and muttering "But first I'll need to see blueprints if you have them. Otherwise, it'll take ten times as long for my autofactories to make it from scratch"
Harrigan reached in to his backpack and came out holing a roll of several large sheets of laminated paper. "Here" he stated, handing them over "Make a copy for yourself, but I want those originals back. Plus a copy of blueprints that include the modifications you make"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------- The dealer quickly made copies, bringing the originals back. Harrigan issued one final order. "That gun's pinpoint accurate at up to about 500 metras in single-shot mode. Make sure it stays that way". "That can be done, but will make it more expensive" the dealer responded. "It'll be worth it" Harrigan threw back "But don't push your luck. I'll pay a good fee for good work, but I get annoyed when people try to fleece me". "Is that so?!" growled the Luxan. Then after reining in his temper, he boasted "Be assured, I'm the best projectile weapon specialist in this whole city, maybe even the entire planet! I can do anything you ask!" Harrigan passed over the remainder of the gold from the transaction with the jeweller "A down-payment" Harrigan explained "Just to show I'm serious, to give you a proper incentive to do your best".
The Luxan weighed the gold in his hand. Then he tested a small shaving in a small chemistry setup he kept in the back of his shop. Then he flicked it once or twice with his thumb. It had that rich, unmistakeable thunk of solid gold. "Very good" he said "Come back tomorrow, three arns after sunrise. I'll get my colleague up, and we'll work through the night for this". "Keep a copy of the final blueprints for yourself" Harrigan said over his shoulder as he turned to go "Make some for your own business. That weapon is an excellent design. It will make you much money". Then he took the hand of the customs officer and together they walked back towards the spaceport.
"I'll have to head back to quarters to get some sleep" she said as they neared the spaceport. "I could probably arrange guest quarters there if you'd like?" "Thank you, but I'll sleep in my ship" Harrigan responded "Anyway, it wouldn't do your career any good if it's suspected you're sleeping with a ship captain. People will think it too, especially if those girlfriends of yours are any indication of the general police population". Though she was slightly upset at that, she smiled and waved him goodnight.
Harrigan made his way back to the spaceport without further incident. Once he got back inside the Harbringer, he asked if the ship had detected any disturbances nearby, or if any messages were received. He then shut all external doors, set the alarm for two arns after local sunrise, and fell fast asleep in the bunkroom.
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