First Impressions (Breaking Away part 1) Read online

Kreft Way knew he was a bit late arriving at the spaceport to pick up the mercenary he and Terry Reyes had hired. In fact, he more than knew; his tardiness was somewhat intentional. The last time the two of them had gone over the finance books for their organization made it abundantly clear that their group had no business hiring and promising to pay anyone –let alone professional killers. Perhaps, he had suggested, if my arrival to get Mr. Parker is too late, he’ll just leave.

  “Just use some of your charm on him so he likes us before you tell him we can’t pay him,” Terry said as she shooed him out of her car. “Take a bit of time getting back to our southern base; stop by, see your family or something. If he can see the dire situation in which the people of this planet are stuck, a man who makes his living helping others won’t be able to resist our cause. Otherwise, I suggest you find some way to abandon/lose him in the desert;” Reyes instructed Kreft as she dropped him off outside of the western habitat before she started her long drive to the east.

  “Just where do you get helping people?” Kreft tried to argue, stepping out of the car before turning back. “It’s not like he’s some sort of wandering preacher or something; the man’s a hired gun! I’m not so sure that intentional abandonment can come without repercussions…“ He would have continued, but Terry had begun driving off the moment he had stepped out of the car. True, she was expected to meet a semi-important SS contact in the Eastern city at sometime tomorrow, but her departure reeked of simply wanting to get away from the situation.

  This western habitat was nothing much, except it did have the only public spaceport on Zandor. Kreft and Terry’s fear of what the famous killer they had hired would do were they to try simply ignoring him after summoning his presence and supplying only a one-way flight ticket, was the only reason they were not just trying to give him the cold shoulder. One could not forget that their hire was, in fact, the infamous Samuel Parker. That was about the only reason why Way stood just outside the Western habitat in the dust of Reyes’s departing vehicle, without trying to stop her; even though to go forward and admit that they had no money (for even the return spaceflight) was the last thing that he desired to do.

  Worry about the money later, Kreft tried to tell himself. I really need to become his friend just now; me and my good new buddy Sammy! People rarely want to hunt down and kill their friends.

  Unsure if his own thought was even true, Kreft began by making his way to the entrance of the habitat and past the fountain just inside so he could start on his way towards the spaceport.

 

  Entering the spaceport and taking a quick survey of the ground floor; Kreft almost felt like cheering. No one was obviously waiting for anything! The half-hearted joke of a plan to show up late and hope their freelance fighter got bored and left without demanding his retainer fee seemed to have actually worked! Happy to simply wash his hands of the whole sorry business, Kreft turned around to leave.

  Unfortunately, as he did, he overheard two janitors snickering among themselves. It was a scene that at any other time he would have simply ignored, except for the fact that the two of them seemed to be loudly discussing the name for the supposed underground resistance group he was trying to help Reyes run.

  “The TGR??” the downstairs manager snorted, asking a worried looking assistant, “You sure it’s not just some sort of dyslexic acronym for the ‘Registered Guard Trustees?’ Their ‘great leadership” manages to screw up everything else on this planet. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if they called for some space-oaf who’s never a stairway before, and then not even bother to send anyone out when the poor fool’s dropped off some 16 floors up.”

  “That was my first thought,“ the younger man answered, sheepishly grabbing the back of his neck and trying not to laugh at the man he was describing; “but I’m thinking someone’s playing a mean practical joke here. When I said something about the Registered Guard, he was adamant that I not call them. However foolish and over-trusting the dupe might be, coming all the way out to a foreign planet and all, specifically to meet with someone he has no way of contacting; he does know well enough not to call out the ‘Guard for what they would surely consider to be a waste of time.”

  “Well then, why didn’t you help him down?” the manager, who was beginning to sound somewhat annoyed, asked as he tried to continue his mopping; “I’m busy here. I’m not going up there until I’ve finished this floor. You are so busy that you seem to have nothing better to do than spread multi-floor gossip. Give me one good reason why you haven’t helped the poor little guy down.”

  “Now that’s exactly it,” the man from up the stairs replied, his hands reaching upwards into the space in front of and above his head; “he wasn’t some ‘poor little guy,’ he’s some huge lumbering freak of nature! (…although I’m not sure nature had all that much to do with it…) Yeah, his arms and legs may be pencil thin; but the lack of gravity on whatever station or asteroid he was raised at has left him taller than anyone I’ve ever seen! Although, while low gravity may have made him tall; it’s also left him with the muscle tone of a newborn. The man is not built to tackle one flight of stairs down- let alone 16.

  “He might be able to climb up with some help and a bit of patience, but I’m not volunteering to help him downwards and get sued when he falls and snaps his scrawny neck. I’m not kidding here; the helpless dork just looks breakable. He’s even wearing one of them medical-elastic skin-suit-thingies that people only wear if their natural skin isn’t strong enough…”

  The description nearly left Kreft with a grin on his face. If the man they were expecting was simply unable to take the actions the TGR was hiring him for, they would have a legitimate excuse not to pay him! It was nearly better luck than he could have wished for. Now the only thing left that the TGR needed to do to resolve their monetary situation was to arrive, pick up Parker, and act like they expected the man to work.

  So, with the new outcome in mind; Kreft entered the doorway to the stairwell. Sixteen flights up; may be a bit of a climb, but he could see no other way of reaching his hire in a building that lacked elevators.

 

  Sam put his hands on the chair seat next to his legs. As no one seemed to be coming to the spaceport to meet him, he figured that there was no choice but to get out into the city and find some lodging on his own for now. There had to be some other way of contacting the people he had expected to meet him. Perhaps the telephone book in a hotel room could help me get a-hold of someone in this wonderful TGR group; the thought seemed less optimistic, however, when he fell back to his seat the moment he tried to pull his hands away from the chair without ever even coming close to regaining balance. Samuel wasn’t exactly sure how to summon the strength he found himself lacking. Nice situation; he told himself, now if I can even get out of this stupid chair without falling; then I just have to surmount the tremendous obstacle of that unbelievably long flight of stairs downwards. One look towards the drop-off just past the doorway to the staircase nearly made him shudder in dread.

  He had not missed the way in which the spaceport workers were watching him. When he finally asked one man to help him down the stairs, the custodial attendant cut him off with questions of why Sam had come to Zandor. Parker had thought himself efficient at keeping his intentions mostly secret, but before he knew it, the guy was threatening to call out the Registered Guard on him! Until now, never in his life out of Standarfin had Samuel left the jurisdiction of the Supreme Shield; so to be threatened with the very group he had been hired to help fight against within the first hour of his arrival on Zandor left him with a dry throat as a sickening reminder of how alone he was.

  “Please don’t call them. It’s really not necessary. I wouldn’t want to anger them by wasting their time.” He tried to ensure that the concerns he had unintentionally placed in the young custodian would not bring about his doom; “It’s really not that much of a problem. The people meeting me are just a little late! I’m sure the TGR must be on
their way. I suppose we should give them a bit more time before I have you help me down.”

  Unfortunately; it seemed that the worker had been quick to leave after the talk, so now Parker wasn’t even sure if the fellow had made his threatened call or not. And because Sam did not want to risk falling and making even more of a fool of himself (at least until the lobby was a little more empty), there wasn’t much more to do other than wait and watch to see if anyone was coming up the stairway. True, if he were to simply see someone of the Registered Guard, he could not change his situation in any way in the unarmed state that the spaceport security was trapping him in; but by keeping an eye out he would at least notice anyone who might now be after him before the attack came.

  So, it was in this cheery watch for trouble coming up the staircase that the professional liquidator first laid eyes on Kreft Way. Had the unfamiliar great force of gravity that seemed to endeavor to sink him directly through the chair not been so distracting, the apparent pleasure this revolutionary seemed to take at finding him in such distress might have raised a warning suspicion. Instead, Parker’s weary mind simply found comfort to be greeted with a smile by a non-threatening, businesslike, young man.

  Upon first sight of Samuel Parker, Kreft tried not to stare at the man’s skinny legs in the skin-tight, medical trousers that he wore. He looks like some sort of overgrown little kid. Does the living ‘forever’ that Mitodesino or whatever drugs he must be on offer really make it worthwhile to be perpetually trapped as an awkward pubescent looking youth? Clearing his throat, Way attempted to speak in a normal voice, and try not to laugh with cheer at how out of place the strange man looked. “I think I was supposed to meet you here,” Kreft willed his voice to stay natural as he spoke. “You’re Mr. Parker, are you not? I’m sorry I was late, but I didn’t hear you were upstairs until just a minute ago-“

  “Hey, no Mr. -I’m just Parker,” the thin man said, throwing out his skinny arm as a greeting. Halfway through the motion he seemed to lose track of what he was saying to concentrate on holding the non-muscled appendage out. Way found that he was unable not to raise his eyebrows questioningly; disbelieving that the proffered skinny twig could actually withstand the pressure of a normal handshake. The offer didn’t last long, as after seconds his arm was shaking, and the off-planet visitor pulled it back in apparent disgust or shame before Kreft could take it.

  “Look-,” the supposed ‘assassin’ continued, the unshaken hand now reaching up to cover his own forehead; “I’m sure I’ll get over this, I’ve just never been on an actual planet before. But guns, lazars, computers; it should all work the same. I may not get around on the ground all that well, but my mind, the mind you hired is still here. I’m not quitting for as long as you’ll put up with me.”

  As pitiful as some might have found Parker’s rant to be, Kreft felt a strange bit of respect unexpectedly growing when the odd-looking man did not try using lies to brighten the outlook of the potential use of the service that he’d be able to provide. Instead, this ‘infamous hazard’ was openly admitting that things did not look like they would work well with him; and yet he was ready to stay on for trying his luck at proving his own use, anyway. It could only remind Way of how the Trizendar/TGR kept doing things their own way, no matter how often the RGT tried to paint their actions as atrocities. This man is exactly the type of fighter that we need, a voice whined in the back of his mind. Looking at how the contracted gunman was literally struggling to sit up straight, Kreft’s revolutionary spirit almost let his hopes overcome his reason; if he’s admitting his own potential lack of use, Samuel Parker may actually even be humble enough to help us regardless of the pay.