Just Another Night
*** Chapter 4 - The Sinker ***

"This'll teach me to try for the patent filing bonus."

Brad Harrison was tied to the only chair in the dingy, moldy smelling motel room. He looked somewhat the worse for the wear after riding for four hours on the floor of a van - his long blond hair was grubby and matted, and grease stained his pleasant features. "As soon as my name gets out, I get kidnapped. Then again, two days later. Now you guys."

"Wait a second," Princess interrupted. "You were kidnapped before Renraku got ahold of you?"

"Yeah, by Aztechnology goons. They wanted to take me down and beef up their Arcology's security. Some really freaky guy grabbed me on my lunch break. Had the strangest eyes I'd ever seen, slitted like a cat’s."

"Door," Princess muttered, "I've met him. What happened?"

"He delivered me to the airport, turned me over to his friends, and left. The plane was hijacked by the Renraku guys and I got dumped on the ship, where I've been coding for the past week. Hey, I don't suppose you've got any food? I'm tired of soy noodles."

"Oh, I'll just call room service," Beck quipped. "I'm sure they'll be right up with some real steak and potatoes."

Harrison glared at him. "No need to get snippy."

"Just remember, you're worth more alive to us than dead right now, but our employers are just as willing to settle for denying your services to their competitors. Ask them for food when you get to them."

"Try and be a little nicer, Beck. He's been through a lot." Dancer stood up from his seat on the floor and pulled a granola bar out of one of his belt pouches. "This is all I've got, but it's real oats and raisins."

"Thanks." Brad smiled up at him, and the smile slid into a different type of grin as Dancer walked over to him and met his eyes. The two stared at each other, grinning, for a few seconds before Beck interrupted.

"You two mind? I think I'm gonna puke over here."

Princess looked at Dancer with an expression of warning, but didn't say anything. Dancer rolled his eyes, but handed the snack over and turned

back to the bed.

"You two are no fun at all."

"You know better," Princess replied. "We hand him over tomorrow morning, assuming these passes you got us for the tribal lands are good."

"They'll work. Trust me." Dancer quirked a corner of his mouth as he lay down on the bed. "Now, I think I'll grab a nap, I'm still a little worn out from saving Beck's life earlier tonight."

"Yeah, yeah, blow it out yer ass," Beck muttered.

Princess grinned and started cleaning her rifle.

* * * *

Beck hustled Harrison out of the motel room and into the back of his dull grey van. The pale shadows of the pre-dawn hours created constant movements out of the corner of his eye, and his honed reflexes quickly analyzed and dismissed each potential threat.

Brad took a seat in the rear of the vehicle staring out the window and away from the door as Beck slammed it shut. Hearing a muffled thump, Brad quickly turned to look back towards the motel. He saw nothing, however, and so closed his eyes to try and catch a little more sleep.

Princess and Dancer came outside, carrying the last of their bags. Princess frowned, gazing around.

"Where did Beck get to?" she asked her captive as she opened the door.

"Why should I care?," he retorted, a sour expression on his face.

"You shouldn't," Beck replied as he walked around the corner of the building. "As for your question, Princess, I was asking the desk guy if there was anywhere around here to grab some munchies."

Princess nodded to Beck with a grin. "Good idea, I think Dancer is out of granola bars."

"Hmph. See if I share even if I do have some," Dancer replied as he climbed into the van.

"Doesn't matter anyhow," the orc snapped. "There's nothing else before we hit the Nations. We'll just have to hope our employers have something for us." He twisted the key and the engine grumbled to life. "Let's get this over with."

He steered the van out of the gravel lot and back onto the freeway.

"Where are we going once we hit the border? I'm sticking to 84 until you say otherwise." Beck threw a glance over his shoulder at Dancer. "You do know the way, don't you?"

Dancer scowled. "I told you last night. Get off 84, just before we get to Tir, onto old highway 12. We'll take it over into Tucannon and hit the checkpoint after about 10 kilometers. Johnson said the meeting would be at an office in town. Do I need to continue, or is that enough for the next three hours of driving?"

"Yeah, that'll do," Beck said, never taking his eyes off the road.

Dancer shook his head, then closed his eyes and leaned back.

Princess turned to look out the window, staring at the trees that lined the highway. She imagined them as they once were, lush and green, but living downwind of the industrial plants of Seattle, they were now barren and brown. She sighed, and turned back around to look at Brad. She started to ask how he was, but froze as she opened her mouth.

"Company," she snarled, looking at the black sedan that was rapidly catching up to them.

"Yeah," Beck replied, continuing to stare at the road. "I noticed them about ten minutes ago, while you were admiring the trees."

"Why didn't you say anything, then?", Dancer growled.

"Trying to keep a sense of optimism," Beck deadpanned.

Dancer frowned. "Not your strong point."

"Fortunately, I know what is," Beck said as he began slowing the van down.

Princess shot him a concerned look. "What are you doing?"

"Going with my strong points. Plan A all the way."

Princess blinked a couple times, then groaned.

Dancer shook his head. "No, Beck, we don't know for sure that they're after us..."

As the van coasted to a stop, the following car pulled up behind them, and three men in suits climbed out.

"Get ready to open the door," Beck said as he rummaged around in the canvas bag behind his seat.

Princess just winced and closed her eyes.

"I told you I had been looking for a chance to use this." Beck grinned as a long metal tube emerged from the bag, followed by a large handle.

Brad's eyes widened. "Is that a panther cannon?"

"Yes," Princess and Dancer replied, with a common note of dread.

"You can't seriously mean to fire that in here," Dancer said, staring at Beck.

"Like I said, get ready to open the door. And there are earplugs in the bag."

The men from the car were reaching into their jackets and starting to walk towards the van. Dancer and Princess pulled out the ear plugs, and Dancer stuffed some in Brad's ears as well.

Dancer glanced at Beck. "None for you?"

"I want the full experience," he said with the grin. "The aural dampeners will protect me anyhow. Get ready."

Dancer sighed and lay down at the back door as Beck hefted the cannon and sighted down the barrel.

"Now!" Beck yelled, and Dancer kicked the handle of the back door, swinging it open wide. There was a bright flash, and a thunderclap that left them all gasping for breath and momentarily blinded, followed by yet another explosion as the car, and its former occupants, became one with their environment.

"WHAT?!" Dancer yelled, after his eyes cleared and Beck mouthed something at him. He pulled at the earplugs, and found that the pressure of the shockwaves had pushed them further into his ears than he intended. After some tugging, however, they came out, only slightly deformed.

"Explosive rounds," Beck said with an ear-to-ear grin.

"Um, duh," Dancer nodded to him. "I sort of noticed when the car turned into a ball of rapidly expanding plasma."

Princess rolled her eyes. "Can we go now?"

* * * *

Beck pulled the van into the parking lot of an incongruously modern looking three-story office building in Tucannon. Whereas most of what they had passed in town had been, at best, hopelessly out-of-date and, more often, barely standing, this building was made of sleek ceramasteel. Beck's trained and enhanced eyes revealed the security monitors that surrounded the entire complex, and he nodded approvingly.

"Assuming they didn't bring us here to betray us, it should go okay from here."

Dancer glanced at him. "What was I saying earlier about you and optimism?"

"Well, I'll hope it goes well, if that's okay with both of you," Princess remarked as she strapped a knife into her ankle sheath.

"And the knife, of course, in case it doesn't." Beck smirked.

"Nothing wrong with being optimistic as long as you're practical about it," she retorted.

The quartet walked into the office, where Mr. Johnson was sitting in a comfortable looking chair. His suit was as immaculate as when they last saw him, at Matchstick's, only this time in a dark navy blue. He smiled as they came in the door.

"Excellent. I hope they treated you well, Mr. Harrison?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess." Brad shrugged. "Could use something to eat, though."

"Certainly, I will have something prepared for you. If you would permit me..."

Mr. Johnson pulled out a small id scanner and pressed it against Brad's thumb, the young man wincing as it drew a blood sample.

Johnson checked the readout, smiled, and reiterated, "Excellent. Well done, thank you." He smiled at Dancer, Princess, and Beck in turn, and handed each of them a black credstick.

"The balance of your payment for a superb job, with full

bonus."

Each member of the team checked the balance readouts; Dancer and Princess surreptitiously, Beck squinting at the numbers closely. They each nodded.

"Lovely doing business with you," Dancer said with a smile. He turned to Harrison and murmured "And you have my number." With a wink, he turned and walked out.

Beck rolled his eyes and followed without a word.

Princess bowed to Johnson, then to Harrison. "Good luck," she said before walking out.

* * * *

Princess dropped down onto the couch in her apartment with a content smile and just a small groan. The job had gone well, her bank account had grown considerably, and she was looking forward to some rest. She flipped the trid display on just in time to catch the end of a newscast reporting that the computer troubles in the Renraku Arcology seemed to have been corrected, and that business for the company was returning to normal.

She stood up, walked into the kitchen, and looked around. This deserves something special, she thought. Opening the small freezer, she pulled out a small, cylindrical package.

New York Double Chocolate. From real, honest-to-Maker milk.

The decadence struck her as she opened the package and the creamy smell hit her, and she giggled as she pulled out a spoon. She took the carton back into the living room and settled down on the couch, luxuriating in the intensely cold flavor. She flipped through several trid channels to find something appropriate and settled on "Homes of the Corporate Execs".

Leaning back on the couch, she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of being able to simply lean back and relax.

Then, the screen began to flicker with an incoming call.

"Hi, Princess," a sultry voice greeted. "I've got another job, if you're interested..."

© 2003 by Blake Sorensen