This is a fan translation of Agent of the Star Corps (Агент Звёздного корпуса) by the Russian science fiction author Leonid Kudryavtsev.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 7
Sometimes fortune favored not only the foolish, but Star Corps agents as well.
The door was indeed unlocked.
What are you going to do? Mercs, Michael thought. But what if there aren't any Ragnites here? What if all of them went to the safehouse? According to my intel, there are only two of them. Unless a few more arrived within the last several weeks. But I doubt it. Why would they?
The room Michael found himself in was something like an entrance hall. There was a forged clothes hanger, a soft chair, and a table with a stack of magazines. Besides the magazines, there were also several empty bottles of beer on the table. Apparently, there was normally supposed to be a merc sitting in the chair and watching the door.
Michael pulled out the beamer and carefully slid a large bolt over the door.
Now no one was going to enter the headquarters.
Time to see who was in the other rooms.
Michael walked up to the other door. The second room was something like a reception room. Soft furniture, a huge table reminiscent of a sarcophagus, even a pair of paintings that were utter daubs. This room was empty too.
The merc and the Ragnite were in the next room. The merc stood by the door. The Ragnite was sitting behind a large desk. The merc was struck with the butt of the beamer before he got a chance to get his weapon out. The Ragnite turned out to be quicker and even managed to leap to his feet and grab a blaster off the desk. But he didn't get a chance to raise or fire it.
Michael's beamer was aimed straight between the Ragnite's eyes. Realizing he was too late, the Ragnite placed the weapon back on the desk and sat down.
"What now?" he asked.
"What do you think?" Michael chuckled malevolently.
"I think we're going to have a chat. It doesn't look like you intend to shoot me yet. Otherwise I'd be dead already. That means you have a few questions for me. Ask away. I'll answer what I can."
Michael picked up the Ragnite's weapon from the desk and tossed it into a corner of the room.
Now he could look around.
The room wasn't very large. There were three shabby chairs, an old desk with a powerful stationary transmitter, and the aura of a holoscreen was glowing in the corner. There was a single window. Michael could see a piece of the night street from where he was standing. The street was quiet and empty. For now.
"Take a seat, ask away," the Ragnite waved a hand in the direction of the chair by the desk.
Why not? But first he'd have to take certain precautions. To avoid tempting his opponent.
"Put your hands on the table," Michael ordered. The Ragnite grinned in contempt and obeyed. Now he looked like a model student. In fact, he'd undergone a strange metamorphosis. Moments earlier, Brado had been able to clearly read surprise and fear on this face. But now it was impenetrable, like that of a government official being paid a visit by someone unpleasant.
Continuing to keep his weapon trained on the Ragnite, Michael sat in the chair.
The Ragnite emissary was about forty. His long, gloomy, nearly human face with slanted eyes was almost Asian, if not for the unnaturally gray skin. Then again, the primary difference between the Ragnites and the Humans was in their worldview, principles, understanding of good and evil, and methods. In point of fact, there was such a great difference in the morality of Ragnites and Humans that some sapient centipede from a volcanic planet might turn out to be more understandable to Michael than the person sitting across from him.
"So, you wanted to ask me several questions," the Ragnite reminded him.
And now the main game begins, Michael thought. A lot depends on it.
He recognized that the beamer in his hand was pretty much useless. Oh, it would keep the Ragnite sitting calmly instead of trying to, say, snap Michael's neck. But only for a time. Like any fanatic, the Ragnite wasn't bothered by death. To him it was merely a boundary beyond which new existence began. Nothing more. And he would grab onto life while he could still do something to achieve his goal. The fact that he hadn't yet tried to attack Michael indicated only that he was assuming he would come out on top in the coming fight. If he sensed he was losing, he would try to kill the Star Corps agent, even if his chances were low.
Michael smiled coolly.
"All right. You got it. I do indeed want to ask you a few questions. Let's see how you answer them."
"Ask away."
The Ragnite's eyes narrowed like those of a cat that had been chased up onto a tree by dogs.
"Where's your partner."
"Don't you know that?"
"He went to the place where I was supposedly captured. Or is he off on some other business?"
The Rangnites smiled arrogantly.
"I don't know what you mean. What place? What capture? Of course you're being searched. But only by centurions. We have nothing to do with that. My partner did indeed leave on business. Personal business."
"And forgot to lock the door when he was leaving?"
"Someone is definitely going to answer for that."
Michael sniffed the air and grimaced.
The Ragnites even smelled differently. The odor was sharp, aggressive, like that of a large predator akin to a lion or a tiger.
"In fact, I have absolutely no idea why you came to our headquarters. Struck my security guard. Threatened me with a gun. I think that when the centurions learn of this—"
"And I," Michael interrupted him, "have no idea why you killed Haka. Why not try to make a deal?"
"Make a deal?"
"Well, yeah. There was no reason to take extreme measures. If worse came to worst, we could even have returned what he took from you."
It was a shot in the dark. In his position, it was the only way to learn something. Then again, it wasn't really much in the dark. After all, why had they killed Haka? Because of information. What information? There was no way he could've gotten to their secret documents. Ragnites didn't leave them lying around. More likely, he'd managed to steal an important object from them. Something like the prototype of a new weapon. It was actually a plausible explanation.
"Returned," the Ragnite said thoughtfully. He'd said it strangely, as if the word was sweet, delicious, like a lollypop.
"But it's too late for that now," Michael said. "What's done is done. You can't resurrect the dead."
"Is it too late, though?" the Ragnite asked suavely.
Michael looked at him musingly.
Had he indeed taken the bait? Or was he just pretending?
"Of course it is."
Michael did his best to make the statement come out with a hint of hesitation.
"Too late, then…" The Ragnite thought about it. Michael placed the hand with the beamer onto the desk. He'd still have time to pull the trigger if necessary. The Ragnite needed to think and think well. It was difficult to do that with a gun in your face.
"Could we make a deal?"
Michael said nothing. It was too soon to speak. Let the Ragnite come to a decision. Let him swallow the bait.
A strange expression came over the Ragnite. As if he was listening to something. As if, before speaking, he had to first get permission from someone unseen who was listening to their conversation.
Maybe he was stalling for time, or maybe he was actually communicating with his blue sphere. According to the Supers, the Ragnites could somehow communicate with their sacred blue spheres and do their bidding. In a way, the Ragnites were slaves to their blue spheres.
Finally the Ragnite nodded, as if agreeing with someone invisible.
"We can," he said confidently. "We can resolve this peacefully."
Michael allowed himself a skeptical snort.
He was playing a role, like a real actor. Except he'd had no rehearsals, and there was only one show. Instead of applause and bravos he would get something more valuable. Knowledge. Understanding of what had happened on this planet during his absence. Assuming he played his part well. If he was able to trick the Ragnite.
And if he didn't? Then he'd think of something else. He had to. It seemed that a very interesting game was starting. And, without a doubt, a dangerous one.
The Ragnite ignored his snort. His face was impenetrable and very calm. Like that of a doll. Yes, exactly, there was something unnatural in him, as if he'd put on a mask.
"Here is what we're going to do," he said. "You will return what your partner took from us, and we will allow you to leave the planet. Without hindrance."
Michael threw a distrustful gaze at the Ragnite.
"How?"
"Simple. You will board an ordinary passenger ship and go on your way. Anywhere you want. Alive and well. Out of danger."
"And what's stopping me from doing that right now?"
The Ragnite spread his hands, "No one, except for the centurions, of course. Haven't you been watching the holonews?"
"No."
"Right, of course, you were busy," the Ragnite said with a measure of sarcasm.
"Maybe," Michael said carefully. I wonder what other nasty surprise these bastards have prepared for me? he thought. They couldn't have accused me of starting the firefight in front of the hotel. Or could they? Damn, there were witnesses who saw that I was only defending myself. The passersby, the salesgirl at the farming supply store… But there could be others too. Others who'd been paid off.
As if reading his mind, the Ragnite nodded, "Yes, yes, it's true. According to the holonews, you're worse than a killer lion that has escaped its cage. You're just itching to kill as many people as possible. You killed your alien friend at the hotel out of nowhere. Attacked the receptionist at the same hotel. Killed an innocent man right in front of him. Went mad and started shooting at the people on the street, forcing them to defend themselves. Ruined and set fire to a farming—"
Michael slapped his hand on the desk, "Enough. I see. I guess you went there after all."
"We had to," the Ragnite replied. "But it wasn't cheap."
"I can guess," Michael said.
The Ragnite gave him a thin smile, "Not as expensive as you think. You see, it's not necessary to pay off hundreds of people. It's enough to grease the palms of just a few, but they have to be at the top. By buying them, you're automatically buying their subordinates."
"I see," Michael shook his head. "I guess that thing is worth a lot if you're spending so much money. Buying an entire planet in a matter of hours, that takes some effort."
"We did it. If necessary, we'll buy a few more. Even if you manage to get on board a ship and leave this planet, it doesn't mean that you'll be able to reach Earth or one of the planets allied with the Humans. Passenger ships land on almost every planet on their path. I assure you, there will be a proper reception waiting for you there. Besides, that ship might end up being attacked by a cruiser without any markings or simply disappear in the depth of space."
"Whoa, those are some actions," Michael said. "I guess that thing really does mean a lot to you."
The Ragnite froze for a moment. Michael once again had a feeling that he was conversing with someone. Maybe it was indeed his blue sphere.
"Sarcasm is inappropriate here," the Ragnite said finally. "Especially since we're talking about your life. You Humans seemed to be very concerned about staying alive. I don't understand that. But I'm still offering you what you consider to be the most valuable thing in the world."
"Life?"
"Exactly," the Ragnite said dryly. "The chance to survive."
"Does it exist?"
"Yes, if we come to an agreement."
"Which I, of course, will have to trust."
"You don't have a choice. Besides, you personally are of no interest to us. We need to return what your partner has taken. Killing you would require certain effort. Unjustifiable effort. Well, do we have a deal?"
Now it was time to put an end to the game. Michael had no intention of making any agreements. And yet…
He suddenly really wanted to believe the Ragnite, make a good-faith deal, and leave the planet. Sure, he would think of himself as a coward for the rest of his life, but he'd survive. A living jackal was better than a dead lion. Right?
No, not right, Michael thought gloomily. Not right at all. There are things in the world that are simply impossible. For a real lion to become a jackal is a fate worse than death.
And yet the Ragnite was right about one thing. It seemed that he, Michael Brado, had gotten himself involved in serious trouble.
Yes, he could play hide-and-seek with the Ragnites and their mercs. He could run away from centurions. It would even be entertaining to them. But it was different when he was being searched by all of the planet's law enforcement as a murderer, one that was highly dangerous and bloodthirsty.
Michael wanted to strangle the Ragnite. On the spot. But then what about the game? It wasn't over yet. And the death of an enemy wasn't always a victory. Sometimes it was a defeat. The way it would be in this case.
Still, losing such an opportunity would be unfortunate. He might not get another.
"Well?" the Ragnite inquired. "Have you decided?"
"Not yet," Michael admitted. "I'm not sure you're going to keep your word. Right now, I think that it's better for you to kill me in any case. It's not difficult to guess which way the scales are leaning when one side has an advantage on it and the other a fulfillment of a promise.
The Ragnite shook his head, "It is not a proper comparison. If only because there's an advantage on both sides. And on one side it comes in addition to fulfilling a promise."
Michael chuckled, "How is it advantageous for you to fulfilling your promises?"
"By the fact that we're not going to have to put in an effort to kill you. Why? You're already going to keep silent about what happened on this planet. You'll explain your partner's death as an accident. Your escape will be explained as your inability to fulfil your duties on your own."
"While also giving you a way to blackmail me."
"Incorrect. It's not advantageous for us to blackmail you. For a number of reasons, we don't want Humans to learn of the existence of the object Haka stole from us. Blackmailing you without mentioning it is impossible."
Maybe I should also ask for money, Michael thought. For believability. No, I shouldn't. It would be too much. They likely have a file on me. I'm sure it says that money is meaningless to me. Why would I suddenly start worrying about it? No, it would only put the Ragnites on alert.
He sniffed the air and realized that the Ragnite's smell had changed. It was now sharper, a lot more aggressive.
He's also nervous, Brado thought. Why? He has to know that I have no intention of killing him this time. And the thought shouldn't bother him anyway. Maybe he's nervous about the chance to get the object Haka stole. Probably. So what was it that my partner took from the Ragnites? Maybe I'm still alive because they think I have it. Think or know? Could the leaf be that object? Unlikely. It wasn't difficult to find. And they didn't even bother searching Haka's room. Or maybe they had, and I simply didn't notice. After all, they could've searched the room before killing the Betulian. Haka wouldn't have stayed in his room all the time after returning from Fostera. Or would he?
"You have a minute or two left," the Ragnite reminded him.
"And another half an hour while your mercenaries are busy breaking down the door," Michael added.
"It's not the mercenaries," the Ragnite said. Their eyes met.
"You lied then," Brado said almost cheerfully. He raised the beamer and aimed it at the Ragnite.
"I didn't lie," he spread his hands. "I never promised not to call the centurions."
"Plus you didn't actually call them. Your partner did after you contacted him through your blue sphere."
"Correct."
They got me, Michael thought. They did. How could I not have anticipated this? Then again… There's a silver lining. Now I can avoid making any agreements. And also keep taking the Ragnites for a ride some more.
"If you've told me this, then this means that all the escape routes have been cut off," the Human said.
"Unless you can fly," the Ragnite stated. "As far as I know, Humans don't possess such abilities."
Continuing to keep his weapon trained on the Ragnite, Michael rose and looked out the window.
Yep, there were at least a dozen centurion cars on the street. A multitude of uniformed figures were moving silently near them.
"No," Michael said gloomily. "Humans don't possess such abilities. But there is one ability I could still make use of. Putting holes in my enemies with a beamer."
"Why?" the Ragnite shrugged in an almost Human way. "It's a lot easier to make a deal."
"Another deal?'
"Not another. We can make the same agreement as before, and then I will tell the centurions that you're not here."
"You can also do it if I hold the beamer to the back of your head."
"I can. But my partner will inform the centurions. And they will break down the door anyway."
"And if we make a deal?"
"Then I will hide you. My partner and I will tell the centurions that it was all a misunderstanding. After that you will give us what Haka took, and… that's it. You can be on your way."
Michael looked out the window again.
The centurion figures were no longer running around. It seemed the cops really had cordoned off the entire building. He could try to break out with his weapon. He might even succeed. But then… The entire planet would turn into hell for him.
Law enforcement officers of any planet sooner or later came to the same simple conclusion. The only way to maintain a semblance of order was to convince the ordinary citizens that the life of a law enforcement officer was sacred. Sure, they would still be killed occasionally. But it would be a lot less frequently. Because an unwritten rule would be in effect. Anyone who took the life of a cop was going to die. They would be tracked down and killed, no matter what.
Brado pictured a centurion assault team sneaking up to the door of the Ragnite HQ. One of them would, of course, be holding a plasma cutter. He imagined the centurion starting to cut open the door, while the rest trained their weapons on it.
"Decide," the Ragnite hurried him on. "If we make a deal, they'll never find you."
"I'm sure," Michael snorted. "No one will. Not even me, my corpse."
"So you're saying no?"
The Ragnite's lips turned into thin lines.
Michael smiled condescendingly, "I'm not. Let's say I've decided to think about it some more."
"We don't have time for that."
"After I surrender to the centurions, I'll have plenty of time. In a cell. Between interrogations."
"You've decided to surrender?"
The Ragnite was genuinely surprise at that.
"Of course," Michael said. "I think it makes sense. You're losing nothing since you'll still be able to keep an eye on me. From what I understand, many of the centurions are in your pocket. It's not going to be difficult for you. Unless this was a bluff."
He threw a questioning look at the Ragnite.
"No, it wasn't," he replied. "But it's going to be more difficult to get you out of a cell."
"You will if you want to get back what Haka stole," Michael stated.
"We'll have to."
The Ragnite threw a thoughtful look at him, then added, "You're not as stupid as we thought."
"I'm not," Michael agreed. "So? Do you agree?"
"Very well," the Ragnite nodded. "We're giving you another day. Then either you give us the object Haka stole from us, or you die 'while attempting escape'."
"Excellent," Michael lowered the beamer. "Now go and open the door. If the centurions have to cut through it, they might get nervous."
"But you have to give me your beamer," the Ragnite said and reached out a hand.
"No way," Michael smiled. "Only to the centurions. I doubt you had time to bribe all the centurions. And you couldn't have anyway. That means that there have to be at least a few honest ones among those trying to cut through the door of your headquarter. They're the ones that have to see that I'm surrendering voluntarily. It's also in your best interests. It will guarantee that nothing happens to me on the way to the precinct. As the only person who knows where the object stolen by Haka is located, I'm very valuable to you."
It also keeps you from the temptation of killing me right away, the Star Corps agent thought. Very convenient. If the Ragnite kills me now, he'll be able to easily prove that he was only defending himself. It will also give him unlimited time to find what Haka stole. And it seems that time is the most important part of this whole story.
The Ragnite shook his head and wagged his finger at Michael, as if he was a little boy.
Michael shrugged and waved the beamer, "Let's go to the door."
"All right, let's go," the Ragnite muttered. It seemed he really hadn't anticipated such a possibility. He definitely looked a little disappointed.
"What's your name, by the way?" Michael asked while they were walking to the entrance.
"Why?"
"I have to know who I'm making a deal with."
The Ragnite threw an angry look at Michael and informed him, "Blev Har, junior confidant, with the right to see a great blue sphere."
Michael nodded, "Okay. That's all I wanted to know."
They stopped in front of the door. Before sliding the bold, Blev Har hissed, "If you're thinking about giving us the runaround…"
Michael sighed, "All right, open up. Paranoia… By the way, another threat, and I'm going to start thinking that you've been lying about your connections among the centurions. That would mean that you won't be able to get me out. Which will leave me with only one option."
"Which one?"
"Shoot you right now and try to break out of this building."
"You'll die," the Ragnite said.
"Which means you won't find what Haka borrowed soon. Assuming you will at all."
"Damn you," the Ragnite muttered and slid the bolt.