Deja Ortega: Oddsbreaker Read online

  Deja needed to prepare for a dare that involved swimming with grutch sharks. Tomorrow, she’d swim with the fearsome creatures and, she hoped, come out alive. For now, though, she wanted to soak up some local color first. Taking a day or so off after a dare always helped her center herself.

  Looking around her room, she debated on what to bring with her to the nearby marketplace. The room had old-fashioned plaster walls and was only big enough for a small cot, a closet, a primitive yet flushable toilet, and a sink mounted on the wall. The establishment was sort of like a youth hostel back on Old Earth. She was lucky to have a private room at all. Of course, the room smelled a little bit like old urine and sweat and, alas, had no window. The showers were communal; as such, she had no desire to use them until she really needed to. Even then, she’d be sure to wear some flip flops to avoid any nastiness on the shower floor.

  Her compact blaster was already strapped in the holster on her thigh. Her blue duffel bag rested on the cot at the moment. Deja didn’t like the idea of leaving it in her room unless she took her valuable items with her. Walking over to the bag, she opened it and checked to make sure most of her pricey equipment was in her vest already. Her clothes could be replaced without much bother. Her shoes weren’t the costly kind. She’d left her more expensive clothing, footwear, and other items back on the Blythrian Space Station in her private locker.

  Sure, the duffel also contained some basic makeup and toiletries. Yet such stuff shouldn’t be all that tempting to any thieves. She paused, placing a hand on her med kit, which included some bandages, bone vaccine, flesh sealant (for light wounds), sutures and curved needles (for heavy-duty wounds), various drugs for a variety of purposes, and a bunch of other basic supplies for a medical emergency. Better take that with her, just in case someone raided her room while she was away.

  Reaching into a pocket inside her duffel, she pulled out a sleek, folded backpack. Unfolding it, she packed her med kit inside as well as an extra pair of pants and a shirt. She also stowed some sunscreen and a water bottle in a side pocket. At the last second, she decided to toss in a wide-brimmed hat in case the sun got too hot later in the day. Satisfied with her gear, she walked over to the door and opened it. Locking it behind her, she tromped down the long hall and over to the outer door. She exited the front entrance only to find an unexpected visitor loitering on the other side.

  A young, human girl stood with her dirty hands clasped in front of her. She was leaning against one of the many palm trees. One quick look and Deja could tell the kid was probably homeless. Her light skin was freckled and sunburned, and her red hair hadn’t been washed in a long time. Any haircuts seemed to have been performed with a dull knife. It sort of looked like she was wearing a fuzzy, scarlet nest on her head. About eight years old, she had blue eyes that seemed much older that her physical age. Her lips were thin, as was her body, which was clad in a baggy, shabby dress that used to be a pretty yellow shade. Her feet, covered in dust, were clad in simple sandals suitable for the tropical climate.

  The child bobbed her head at Deja and spoke in Common. “How do ya do? Might ya be needing someone to show you ‘round and run errands an’ such? My rates is cheap. An’ I don’t cause no trouble.”

  Deja wouldn’t mind a little company, especially if it helped out a child in need. She flashed a little smile at the willowy girl. “Well now, that could be nice. What do you call yourself?”

  “Name’s Maizie,” said the child with a small smile of her own, showing uneven teeth.

  “Hi, Maizie.” Deja held out her right hand. “I’m Deja. Nice to meet you.”

  The small street urchin reached out and shook Deja’s hand. “Would ya like to go to the market today? Lots of stuff to see over yonder.”

  “Actually, that’s right where I’d like to go. What’s your going rate for the day?”

  “Oh, just fifty dorems, is all.”

  “Fine by me,” Deja replied, fishing in an inside pocket of her vest for a preloaded CredChip. “Here’s twenty-five for right now. Where do you think I should start?”

  Maizie took the chip and tucked it away in a pocket on her skirt, smiling big now. “Well, that depends. You hungry, Miss Deja?”

  “You read my mind! I’m famished.”

  “OK,” said Maizie, “come this-a-way.”

  Obliging, Deja followed the girl out of the hostel’s courtyard and onto a busy, cobblestone-paved street in the coastal town of Ginyo. The street was lined with houses made from a variety of materials, wooden or plasticrete walls and simple thatched roofs or tin roofs. Some buildings were made from a bamboo-like material. All in all, this world wasn’t too technologically advanced. So it was still rustic in many ways. Some people had fancier houses and possessions, but most didn’t. And many people (human and alien alike) walked or rode bikes. Some rode in rickshaws while others drove vehicles powered by the sun or fossil fuels. The morning air was already moist and warm, making Deja feel a bit sticky. But her skin didn’t mind. No clouds obscured the cornflower blue sky.

  “Maizie,” she asked, “where are we headed?”

  “Oh, just the best café ‘round these parts—The Red Claw. You’ll like it plenty.”

  “Sounds great. Lead on,” Deja said, walking behind the child and wondering how long Maizie had been without a home.

  Lieutenant Colonel Geoff Thorne of the Galactic Justice Coalition sat with his back to the wall in a small restaurant called The Red Claw in the bustling town of Ginyo on the coast of the Ikenama Sea. He was on holiday, so he wasn’t wearing his uniform, though he did have an off-duty blaster strapped to his thigh and a good hunting knife on his belt. He was wearing a many-pocketed fishing vest over a short-sleeved, gray shirt and camo cargo pants in blues and grays. As per his usual habit, he was evaluating his surroundings, making sure he knew all the exits, the possible threats, and so on.

  Six feet, three inches tall with a muscular frame, Geoff was in his early thirties. But he looked younger than his age; everyone said so. Perhaps it was his deep-set, blue eyes? He also had a square jaw and a cleft chin. The soldier’s brown hair was cut in a short, military style. His nose had a hawkish outline and was a bit crooked after getting broken and reset too often. His hands were large, but his fingers were somewhat slender and strong despite having broken his hands and some of his knuckles a few times. Modern medicine could do wonders—most of the time. His white skin had a deep tan from hours and hours spent outside.

  The restaurant wasn’t much to look at. The bar as well as the tables and chairs were all simple but sturdy. Some chairs or stools were larger or smaller than his own chair to accommodate other species. At the moment, several two-armed, four-legged, amphibian Zooxes were standing by the bar, talking vociferously, and drinking alcoholic yogg. Geoff didn’t care much for the drink himself, but most humans didn’t. At any rate, it was a bit early to be hitting the yogg. He himself was nursing a cup of black coffee and eating a savory pastry in a leisurely fashion. Behind the bar, a hulking human male stood doing inventory and washing mugs. A young, Be’Voyan female with bluish skin and long, black hair was just going back to the kitchen to get an order. Geoff began to study the other patrons of the restaurant. A trio of male humans looked like they were down on their luck, all of them in threadbare clothing.

  Four native Be’Voyans, three males and one female, were dressed in the local police garb: rugged boots and green-gray camo uniforms. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, their bodies rigid and their eyes often roving their surroundings. He knew how formidable Be’Voyans could be, what with their combat training. This group also wore menacing rifles and truncheons, not to mention a few knives. The Coalition had rated this planet as a low-risk zone, but he wondered if something might be going on judging from the behavior of this assembly of officers in the café. He had heard some rumors that the planet was trying to join the Coalition.

  His gaze moved on to other café patrons, including a one-eyed Tondwian who occupied a sizeable wooden chair
near the far side of the café. She had blocky features like most of her kind, but her elegantly draped clothing made her seem sleeker. A porcine, tusked Orinkk in a jaunty white hat and loose clothing lounged in a wicker chair reading something on a data tablet and munching on some jarberry tartlets. Those Orinkks sure loved sweets. He paused. Too bad a small number of them also had the unfortunate tradition of eating part of their deceased friend or family member before the burial ritual. Cannibals. The thought made Geoff shudder a bit. Of course, the vast majority of that species didn’t practice endocannibalism, which was reassuring.

  In any case, the most unlikely occupants of the café were two Evuutans, one male and one female. Both were obviously warriors, what with all the tribal tattoos on their crested heads, thick necks, and impressive arms. Their skin was albino, of course. And they both wore tight-fitting clothes that highlighted their muscles with ease. Most Evuutans were big on honor and sacrifice but didn’t always have the best manners. As a result, Geoff generally classified them as the “Klingons” of the galaxy. Anyhow, these two were typing up something on their PalmStars. They also had wicked-looking spears leaning against their small table.

  Somewhat bored with his vigil, the lieutenant colonel fought the urge to yawn. He hoped he didn’t have long to wait before the captain of his upcoming deep-sea fishing trip showed up. I’d better catch some real whoppers on this expedition. A pity his adoptive father couldn’t come with him on this occasion. But he hadn’t been able to get away from the non-profit he ran with Geoff’s birth mother.

  Geoff startled when one of the larger Zooxes roared in laughter and announced, “Well, let’s just go ask the hog then!”

  The Orinkk spared a sidelong glance at the green, rubbery-skinned Zoox who had issued the insult, sniffing in disdain with his pig-like snout but saying nothing. Unfortunately, the group of Zooxes wouldn’t let the matter drop.

  “So, my piggy friend,” said Zoox Number One, “have you eaten any friends and family lately?”

  “You are no friend of mine. And I am sure you do not mean to insult me with such a question,” said the offended party, straightening his hat.

  “Come on. Don’t put on airs. I know your kind loves munching on your fallen relatives and comrades,” sneered the drunk Zoox.

  The two other Zooxes, equally intoxicated, chimed in with, “Yeah, oinker!” and “Tell the truth!”

  Geoff sighed. Things were getting ugly. Technically, this planet wasn’t part of the Galactic Justice Coalition. So he didn’t have any jurisdiction here. Yet he didn’t like to see people being mistreated. The Evuutans seemed to feel the same because they perked up and set down their PalmStars with a dual thwack. The four Be’Voyans looked in the direction of the speaker, but their expressions were amused, not outraged.

  “Look,” said the Orinkk, “you are obviously drunk. Apologize and I will go on my way.” He stood and waited for a response.

  “Ohhh, we’re soused, huh? Doesn’t mean you get to ignore a perfectly good question!” exclaimed Zoox Number One, walking over to the Orinkk. The other two Zooxes followed him.

  “What I eat is none of your business, you slaggerous scum.”

  At such an affront, Zoox Number One punched the porcine alien in the face. The portly guy fell back into his chair and tipped backwards, sprawling on the floor.

  A few things happened quite fast after the Orinkk went down. The Tondwian turned her head in the direction of the fight, but didn’t move. The bartender reached beneath the countertop and pulled out a sizeable blaster. Both Evuutans sprang from their chairs, grabbing their spears, and hustled to the Orinkk’s side. The three Zooxes chuckled loudly, shaking their heads, and one of them kicked the prone alien. The Be’Voyans all stood up, poised to spring. Geoff himself came to his feet in a swift motion and then sprinted the short distance to the scene of the disturbance.

  A bar fight…in a café? Really? he thought.

  And then all heck broke loose. The bartender fired his blaster on stun at Zoox Number One, who swayed but didn’t drop to the floor. The male albino warrior jabbed the butt of his spear into the stomach of Zoox Number Two, who reared onto his back legs in shock. The female Evuutan yelled out, “Soldiers, do your duty or face my wrath!” This prompted all the Be’Voyans to unsling their truncheons and join the fray—against the Evuutans and Orinkk.

  The Orinkk lumbered to his feet and slugged the Zoox who had started all this in the first place. The amphibious alien collapsed like a sack of butchered meat. Geoff unholstered his blaster and leveled it at Zoox Number Two, who dodged the blast. But the male Evuutan whipped his spear around to whack him in the side. Zoox Number Two tried to deliver an uppercut to the male Evuutan, yet the warrior was decidedly not intoxicated and quite spry. So he danced out of the way and kicked the Zoox in the stomach. That was enough to take out Zoox Number Two.

  The four male Be’Voyans advanced on the female Evuutan warrior, who snarled and attacked with her spear. As Geoff turned to help her, the hardy Orinkk and Zoox Number Three grappled with each other, falling to the ground.

  Geoff swept the feet of one Be’Voyan and punched another one in the face, jumping aside to avoid a truncheon. This is no good, he thought, wishing his whole team were here to back him up. No use wishing for that, however. So he trained his blaster on a slender Be’Voyan and pulled the trigger, stunning the soldier, who dropped to the floor. A truncheon slammed into Geoff’s wrist. His blaster spun across the floor, and he teetered for a bit. But Geoff used the motion to swivel and bring up his other arm, landing a solid fist into the throat of the Be’Voyan who had attacked him. That fellow staggered and fell, grasping at his neck and coughing, which left just one Be’Voyan officer facing off with Geoff and the female Evuutan.

  The Orinkk and the male Evuutan were holding their own against the remaining Zoox and the female Be’Voyan. Geoff and his unexpected partner in combat stood back to back to deal with the remaining male Be’Voyan and two of the humans who had decided to join the brawl. The third human went to assist the Zoox and Be’Voyan squaring off against the Orinkk and the male Evuutan. Geoff wondered why the humans had decided to fight against him, but he didn’t have much time to spare for thinking. Instead, his instincts and training took over, and he dealt out some decent punishment right up until a blow landed on the base of his skull. He went down but rolled, preparing to get to his feet.

  Mid-roll, the front door crashed open and several gunshots rang out. Rolling into a crouch, he spared a glance toward the door and saw five uniformed Be’Voyans streaming into the small café. They were led by a tall soldier with his gun pointed at the ceiling.

  “Stop this idiocy now!” demanded the leader.

  Geoff raised his hands immediately, head still ringing from the blow he’d taken and the shots the leader had fired. The mayhem quickly wound down, though not before some participants landed a few more punches, kicks, and whatnot.

  “I said stop!” roared the Be’Voyan commander, and finally everyone was still. Geoff kept his eyes on the newly arrived leader but evaluated the damage in his line of sight. Various humans and aliens alike were on the floor and most tables and chairs were overturned.

  Great. This is gonna be fun. And where is the captain I was supposed to meet?

  “Mister Rowan,” said the lead officer to the bartender, “who started this mess?”

  “That,” said Rowan, “would be these three Zooxes here, who assaulted the Orinkk. But your Be’Voyans jumped in and made things worse.”

  Several outcries arose from the named parties, but the leader just fired another few shots into the ceiling. “Enough. Soldiers, line up over there. Humans, over here. Zooxes, go stand by the bar—if you can stand. And the rest of you just stay where you are.”

  Geoff marched off to stand with the other humans, the ones he’d been fighting just moments ago. Once everyone was in place, the police sergeant strode up to the bartender. “Please tell me what transpired. And do it quick. We have other things to be
dealing with besides ridiculous brawls.”

  Rowan, who bristled at the word “ridiculous,” pointed at Zoox Number One and began telling a not-so-short tale of what had transpired.

  Sigh. Geoff decided to hold his peace unless the guy in control asked him a direct question. After all, he was reluctant to tell anyone he was a Coalition operative. He couldn’t share that he was in black ops. But he sure didn’t want to gain extra scrutiny by saying he was with the GJC.

  The soldier in charge questioned a few people, and Geoff thought he might be off the hook. Sadly, that was not the case.

  “You, sir,” the commander said to Geoff, who groaned inwardly, “what brings you to Be’Voya?”

  Geoff cleared his throat. “I’m just here for a deep-sea fishing expedition. I was supposed to meet the ship’s captain about ten minutes ago.”

  “And the captain’s name?”

  “Captain Hunshi, sir,” Geoff replied.

  “That tracks,” admitted the sergeant. “Do you agree with this establishment’s proprietor as to the cause of this disgrace?”

  “Yes, I do. The Orinkk was insulted and did not take the first swing. Your soldiers did not seem, uh, motivated by the Orinkk’s plight, sad to say.”

  “Understood. Will you accompany us to the station to make a statement?”

  “Well…” Geoff paused. He wanted to do the right thing, but he also didn’t want to do the stupid thing.

  “Is there some reason you would not wish to visit our local constabulary?” asked the officer in a sharp voice. His golden eyes regarded Geoff with keen interest.

  “No, sir. I just don’t want to miss the captain. But I suppose I can simply message him.”

  “Good answer,” the man said with a brisk nod. “Everyone, let’s go. Stay orderly or else.” And with that, the new bunch of soldiers escorted everyone out of the café.

  Well, this sucks.

  “Whoa, hold on, Maizie,” Deja said, putting her hand on the girl’s left shoulder. “It looks like some local color has been mixing things up at the Red Claw.”