The Good, the Bad and the Undecided

Stiev Helkington-1

STIEV HELKINGTON

LOCATION: The Unspoken Lands

“This is all your fault.”

Stiev hissed the accusation at his older brother as they were escorted—pushed—along the endless gray corridor toward Gallian’s office. Their usual contact was Dalmith, Gallian’s right-hand man. That the boss himself wanted to see them could only be bad.

The oppressive heat from outside had followed them in, and sweat dripped down the center of Stiev’s back. This argument had been going on for a while. Kel just didn’t grasp how serious the situation was. Gallian did not summon you to his office on a whim.

“Stiev, we’re his go-to guys, our shipping routes—”

“My shipping routes.”

“Yeah, well, your shipping routes are the best, and so are our teams. Even with our low costs, we get the job done. He’ll be fine. We just have to explain it was a one-off.”

Stiev stopped walking, not even trying to keep the incredulous expression off his face, stunned by his brother’s lack of foresight. The Ghil behind them hit Stiev in the back, hard. He jolted forward, glaring at the guard over his shoulder. The beast-like snout didn’t hide the sharp-looking fangs projecting from his fat lips. Bloodthirsty and violent, it was not surprising Gallian had Ghil guarding his apartment.

“I was on a winning streak, okay? Look Gallian’s cool. He’ll understand.”

Stiev wanted to clip his brother over the ear to make him see sense. He didn’t. Kel would punch the shenghi out of him. And then there was the Ghil behind him. Now was not the time to be physically aggressive. He worried it would only encourage the Ghil to violence. “He won’t understand. You put the whole project behind schedule. I can’t protect you this time, Kel. You can’t be so stupid that you don’t see that?”

“I don’t need you to save me.”

“You don’t know what you need,” Stiev grumbled loud enough for his brother to hear him.

Kel frowned. “You worry too much.”

The Ghil shuffled closer and sniffed at Stiev’s sweat-soaked collar. Stiev squirmed at the touch of the sticky tongue licking the moisture off his neck. He twitched away and fell against his brother’s weedy body, staring back at the Ghil, mesmerized by the saliva hanging from its fangs.

“People who call Ghil ugly have never seen one up close,” Kel muttered.

Stiev spied the sweat beading the white skin at Kel’s receding hairline. It exposed his true feelings. So, he was worried.

Yeah, this is not going to end well for either of us. Stiev ran his fingers through his own damp hair. The Ghil sniffed at the stink rising from Stiev’s underarm, the sound turning Stiev’s stomach.

“Moooove.” Meaty hands encouraged Kel forward. There was a loud crunch and Kel groaned. Stiev shuffled forward before he received the same motivation.

“You all right?”

“Never better.”

The Ghil grinned, slack skin pulling back to expose his sharp teeth, like a picture straight out of a childhood horror story. He chuckled. At least Stiev assumed it was a chuckle. The sound that emerged reminded Stiev of his lightship’s generator. He shot a look at his brother, the smirk dancing at Kel’s lips said he’d made the same connection. A rare moment of comradery between the siblings.

Delay over, their procession continued down the austere corridor until they were stopped by a sealed door. A beam of light sprang forth from a port in the doorframe, scanning them for weapons, before the door, as thick as the Ghil’s arm, swung inward. It seemed that Gallian did not welcome uninvited guests. Stiev swallowed his fear and stumbled into the sharply lit room.

“—distribution made to both locations.” Gallian’s stare landed on Stiev as they entered, though the rest of his body did not move. He held a commdisk to his mouth—obviously they’d interrupted an important call. The human man examined them with sharp gray eyes and it gave Stiev chills. An expensive-looking dark blue suit did not hide the man’s muscular frame—he was clearly a man capable of violence.

This was not how Stiev had wanted to meet their invisible boss. Khegh it, he’d never wanted to meet Gallian. Much safer to remain unknown by such a dangerous man and just work through Dalmith. Dalmith had been Kel’s idea. Kel’s contact. Kel’s suggestion. Stiev never should have agreed. But Kel’s debts would get them both killed either way. Stiev hadn’t argued, though he’d known it was a bad idea. Sell a few of the guns on the side, make a little profit and pay down Kel’s recent loss. Khegh.

Gallian’s gaze narrowed and the hairs rose all over Stiev’s skin. We are kheghed. Gallian spoke again, his stare not shifting from Stiev’s face. “Immediately. Remember to whom you are speaking.”

A man of that size should have a deeper voice, Stiev thought. There was a burst of sound from the disk. Stiev couldn’t make it out. “Convenient,” Gallian said, his voice crisp and cold. “I expect a more favorable report tomorrow. I would not wish to send Dalmith to ease your burden for you.” The sounds coming from the communication disk fell silent. “Good.” Gallian closed the link and placed the disk-shaped receiver on the desk. He stroked two fingers against his tanned, clean-shaven chin. “Gentlemen.”

The Ghil grunted and shook his hairy head, spraying saliva across Kel’s back. Gallian’s gaze did not waver.

Stiev dropped his stare to the plush red pile of the carpet. Kel shuffled uncertainly beside him.

Gallian sat back, the creak of his chair drawing Stiev’s gaze up. Gallian flicked his hand at the Ghil, who took up a position next to the door. A second Ghil stood on the other side of the doorframe. There were no windows this far underground. No other way out of this room. Not ominous at all.

“Which one of you boys,” Gallian spoke at last, breaking the silence fallen over them, “enjoys a game of cards?”

Stiev’s heart rate sprang into orbit. He knows. Stiev fought not to glance at his brother, knowing his face would give the game away. Gallian had found out about Kel’s side hustle. Stiev knew Kel’s grand plan would blow up in their face. Shenghi. They were dead. There was no way Gallian was letting them leave here alive.

“Well, ya see, Mr. Gallian, it’s like this,” Kel said, shooting Stiev a raised eyebrow, grinning his I got this grin. Stiev widened his eyes, trying to convey his own shut up! stare. Kel grinned. “It’s a heck of a wait between shipments and—”

“Did you win?” Gallian’s voice was soft. It raised every hair on Stiev’s body.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I must be on a streak or somethin’, right, Stiev?”

“Sir, we are behind,” Stiev said, locking eyes with the man behind the desk. The Ghil chuckled. Shenghi.

“And how do you propose to fix that?” Gallian crossed his legs. His fingers tapped steadily on the desk.

“Open a call to the smuggler gangs. They won’t ask questions regarding delivery if the price is right,” Stiev told him. It was the plan Stiev had already ran past Kel, and his brother had set up several meetings for this week with a number of gangs. Stiev knew it would work to get the shipments back on track, he just would have preferred to have it all in place before Kel told Dalmith. It was better to be proactive in these situations. Shipping delay? Fix it before you tell the boss. They should be talking to Dalmith, Gallian’s second in command, as he called himself, and Kel’s direct boss. Why the khegh were they here talking to Gallian instead? If Stiev could only stop his brother from jumping in for a second, he could get in front of this disaster. Head it off, so to speak, before the noose swung their way.

“An interesting suggestion.” Gallian’s stare shifted to Kel. “And is this your proposition too, Mr. Helkington?”

Shenghi. Don’t ask Kel.

“Yes, Mr. Gallian. Stiev plans the routes. If he says they can do it and make up the lost time, it’ll work.”

“I like to gamble, Mr. Helkington, and I enjoy the occasional bet. Do you bet, or is it just the cards you enjoy?”

Shut up, shut up, you neffing khegher. Don’t answer him.

“Ahh sure, I bet, if I’ve got good odds.” Kel’s panicked stare darted around the room, not stopping on anything for very long. “What did ya have in mind?”

“How much would you like to bet on which brother will leave this room alive?”

Stiev did not take his eyes off the seated man. He was afraid to draw the man’s attention to his half-wit of a brother. Inwardly, Stiev sighed. I’m so sorry, Kel.

Kel smiled, displaying crooked teeth. “Well, Sir. You need both of us alive because the smugglers are real selective about who they deal with, right? They won’t take kindly to new players at this stage in the game.” Kel nudged Stiev. “Right, bro?”

“Is your brother right, Mr. Helkington?” Gallian placed his hand on the arm of his chair, his fingers tapping against the padded material. It was not a nervous habit.

Stiev held Gallian’s cold stare through sheer force of will, not wanting to appear weak. His body trembled. “Sir, smugglers are paranoid, and they won’t work with anyone they don’t trust.” Damn the quiver in his voice.

“And they trust you, do they?”

“As much as they trust anyone, Sir.”

“Do they need both of you?”

Stiev didn’t answer.

Kel shifted in the long silence, twitching, finally realizing that the interview had turned. “Now, ah—”

“Mr. Helkington,” Gallian said, addressing Kel, “you are quite a confident gambler, however in this case”—he brought his other hand above the desk and fired his pistol—“you lose.”

Stiev froze as his brother hit the ground. Burnt flesh seared into his nostrils as Kel’s blood splattered the carpet around Stiev’s feet. The Ghil snorted and then coughed, phlegm rolling in his throat. The sound grated in Stiev’s ears.

Gallian lowered his pistol. “I trust you will keep your word and get the shipments back on schedule, Mr. Helkington?”

Stiev swallowed, his mouth bone dry. Emotion choked him and yet he was able to force out, “Yes, Sir.”

Kel stared up at Stiev, his eyes blank. A hole gaped in Stiev’s chest—a hole shaped like his i***t brother. I’m so sorry, Kel.

“The full shipment must be completely distributed before my project can proceed. Do you understand?”

Stiev nodded.

“You may go.” Gallian pointed to one of the Ghil and flicked his fingers toward Kel’s body. “Get that out of here.”

The beastly man shuffled forward and grunted as he hoisted the body over his shoulder. Blood trickled down the Ghil’s back as he lumbered out the door.

Gallian grimaced at the blood soaking into the rich red carpet. He pressed a button on the desk panel. “Get me Dalmith.”

Stiev’s eyes closed on the red stain. The remaining guard prodded him hard in the back and Stiev allowed himself to be pushed from the room.

*

LOCATION: Jantiea * Bar Five *

Stiev peered around the crowded smoke-filled bar Kel had chosen as the meeting point. Unease pricked at his skin. This should have been his brother’s job, dealing with the jump and droppers. Kel’s dead stare appeared in his mind. He couldn’t rid himself of the memory, and it chilled him to the core. He rubbed his hands together, his skin cracked and red. He just couldn’t seem to get warm.

Stiev had already met with the representatives of two other gangs. A tall white-skinned man with long black hair—one of the Trajik—and a woman in a yellow jacket with sharp eyes and gel-like red skin from the Raln. They had both agreed to the mutually beneficial arrangement.

He hated this. Hated going from bar to bar to ensure none of the smugglers realized the others were involved. But he needed ships. The smugglers were notorious for their internal squabbles, and if they realized their access to his cargo was not exclusive, they would bolt, and he’d be dragged before Gallian again—a meeting he’d likely not survive.

Hiring the gangs required a delicate hand. The volatile men and women easily took offense and had unusual personal codes, like refusing to ship class-four weaponry. It was like flying through a Sector-border minefield blindfolded. This next meeting was one of those. A smuggler from the Cross.