Hell Hath No Fury by David Dixon

Author:David Dixon [Dixon, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: military science fiction, Space Opera, slice of life, Pulp, military fiction
Publisher: Dark Brew Press
Published: 2022-06-14T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

I took the train back up to M deck and around to block five again to check out Rise’s hangar deck and see if I could figure out an approach besides blasting my way in like some sort of action movie hero, since I knew that—unlike in the movies—that approach was probably going to end with me taking a ten-millimeter slug to the face. I scowled just thinking about the boss’s stupidity that had cost me my best chance to get in earlier.

What I saw when I actually got to block six was even worse than I’d expected. Where there had been two Rise enforcers before, there were now four, and a roving patrol of three gang members on top of that. The whole of block six was locked down tighter than hell’s gates, meaning my chances of getting inside to warn Carla, if she was even there in the first place, were reduced from minimal to absolute zero.

Cursing under my breath, I grabbed a snack from a vending machine, then got back on the maglev, intending to ride for a few more hours and then come back to see if things had calmed down. I stretched across two seats and closed my eyes for a minute, trying not to dream of Carla.

A godawful racket that sounded like two metal cats fucking in a trashcan woke me up.

I opened my eyes to a train car full of bare-foot passengers dressed in flowing robes in garish colors ranging from incandescent orange to seizure-inducing patterns in blue and red. Apparently not content to assault everybody’s eyes by dressing like technicolor LSD vomit, the crowd banged on tambourines, clinked finger cymbals, rang necklaces of bells, and clapped to a rhythm only they could discern. The group swirled around to what I guessed was supposed to be music, even if to me it had all the organization and beauty of a rockslide wiping out a remote mountain village.

I scowled. Rais, converts to the worship of Rai, a “prophet” of some vague and indeterminate sort. The guy had been dead for forty years or so after some poor ex-member of his cult had blown up his shuttle in Vola somewhere once he’d discovered the exalted Rai had been banging his wife. Even so, Rai’s followers still flew around in large flotillas from planet to planet and station to station, picking up converts, handing out flowers, and generally mucking about making noise. They were pretty harmless as a rule—in fact, in my earlier years, I’d eagerly awaited the arrival of the Rais to whatever rock I was currently marooned on, as they were pretty big on “conversion through love” and the Rais girls were usually a damn sight better looking and more willing than the locals.

They sang something in a language I didn’t recognize and then again in common: “Long live Rai’s Eternal and Glorious Kingdom, reflection of the beauty of Rai’s Eternal Deathless and Spotless Soul.” The crowd swirled around, banging their tambourines and making a racket that made me want to put a gun to my head.

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