03

[This is not a "sex story". It is a story about a society whose people have superfast reflexes... and guns.]

Chapter 2: Basking in the Hospitality of the Silencer

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper were in the cargo hold of a freighter bound for Grafton. That was the first available ship heading there from August, but Croft didn't mind. It gave him space and opportunity to practice.

Croft drew his blaster lightning fast, appraising his opponent in the mirror who drew just as fast as he did. Studying his stance for a moment, he holstered his blaster and drew it again.

"You won't need to do that," said Tane. "We're going to pass for Graftonites. Nobody's going to challenge us."

Croft gave a short laugh. "Graftonites are always challenging each other."

"They only challenge people who they think are weak," said Tane. "They don't challenge each other unless it's over something really important. Since we will be posing as native Graftonites, we shouldn't have any trouble."

"No trouble," Croft repeated. He drew his blaster again. This time, he thought he was slightly faster. Good. He turned away from the mirror and set his blaster to the test setting. Tensing again, he drew his blaster and fired immediately, hitting a crate some twenty feet away. Not bad, but not good; he had been aiming for the crate above the one he had actually hit.

"No matter how much you practice, you'll never be as fast as the natives," said Tane.

Croft hadn't told her about the accelerant that Levi had given him. It was still experimental, Levi had said. Only to be used as a last resort. Croft wasn't enthusiastic about injecting a barely tested drug into his system, but if he were faced with a Graftonite killer, he would have no choice.

"A more productive use of the time would be spent reviewing the data on Grafton," said Tane. "We will be landing on Regular in just a few hours."

"Regular?" Croft said idly, continuing to practice quick drawing, firing, and reholstering his weapon.

"Their capital, and, it appears, their only city," said Tane. "If you can call a locale of only 50,000 people a city."

"Only 50,000 people? And that's their only city?" said Croft. "What about the other almost eight million Graftonites?"

"They're all spread out, all over the countryside," said Tane. "You see, it's things like this you should be learning, and not playing with your weapon. I can help."

"You want to help?" said Croft.

"If I can," said Tane.

"Can you move right over there?" Croft asked, indicating the crates he had been targeting. "I need to practice on a human shape."

********

Croft spent some of the trip practicing his draw, but most of the time he was deep in thought. How to counter an enemy who was always faster than him? Somehow, he would have to outwit them.

When the freighter touched down on Regular, Tane said, "I hope you spent at least some time figuring out a course of action. The Chief's initial orders are to find out more about this Quandry and what his intentions are, but we have been given some latitude in how we approach this. I suggest we begin by reviewing the local media database-"

"Fine, you do that," said Croft. "But I didn't come all the way here to review their local media database."

"Then what do you plan?"

"First we meet our contact," said Croft. After substantial effort Column had ultimately succeeded in hiring a local Graftonite to accompany them for a premium. Given the anti off-worlder sentiment, it was lucky they had found anyone at all. His name was Carper Burundi, and that was all Croft knew about him.

"And then?"

"We'll drop by a friend's place," said Croft.

"May I remind you that we're here on official business," said Tane.

"I think you just did," said Croft.

Croft and Tane stepped out onto the tarmac at the Regular Spaceport. Although it was the largest spaceport on the planet, it didn't have connecting tubes to the arrival terminal as most spaceports did. Most of the traffic that came through Regular was cargo freight; if Graftonites needed to travel off-planet, they used their own spacefighters or small transports.

A mile away, Croft appeared in the crosshairs of a sniper scope.

"I have him," said the slightly accented voice. "They did send Croft, as we predicted. Shall I kill him?" the sniper asked.

"Fool!" said his superior, a woman with light brown straight hair whose eyes flashed as she grabbed the sniper rifle away from him.

The sniper and the other members of the observation team looked up at her with surprise.

"Don't you think it would be the least bit suspicious to kill Croft in so public a place?" said the woman.

"Yes Major, but-"

"And don't you think that at this range a kill would be far from certain? You might only wound him, and put him on alert."

"Yes Major, but-"

"And wouldn't it be wiser to first find out what he's doing here, and what his mission is, before liquidating him?"

"Yes Major," said the sniper. "But you are only observing our mission and so I thought-"

"What you most obviously did not do was think," said Major Nancy Kalikov of the Slurian Special Tasks Bureau. "Follow him, learn what he's doing and what he knows. Once we find out what he's up to, then, and only then, will we eliminate him."

********

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper entered the arrival terminal. The Clapper looked wide-eyed like he was on a vacation. Well, perhaps he was; gamma operatives normally didn't get to travel much. Tane was also taking it all in, no doubt already mentally adding details to the cultural database. Croft, on the other hand, kept his eyes alert, looking for hostiles. In other words, he acted normally.

To Croft's surprise, there was no customs inspection in the arrival terminal. Tane had told him that their luggage wouldn't be inspected, but he hadn't believed it.

"Customs inspections only occur when there are governmental regulations and tariffs regarding imports and exports," said Tane. "There are no such rules here. This isn't even a public spaceport. It's privately owned."

But there was one line they had to stand in before they left the spaceport. When they got to the head of the line, a bored looking Graftonite said, "200 credits."

"200 credits? For what?" said Croft.

The Graftonite looked at him oddly. "Import tax."

"But how can there be an import tax if there's no government?" Croft asked, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be playing the part of a native Graftonite and if he were a native he would have known about such things.

The Graftonite, who, like all Graftonites was armed, sighed. "This spaceport is a private facility. Nothing here runs for free. "

"But 200 credits, simply for the ability to walk out of here?"

"If you're poor, don't come to Grafton," said the Graftonite. His hand casually went down to the area around his holstered weapon. "Are you saying that you're challenging the entry fee?"

The Clapper's eyes grew round.

"No," said Croft quickly, paying for him and Tane and the Clapper.

"Welcome to Grafton," said the Graftonite coldly.

As they stepped out of the terminal, Croft found himself blinking in the bright morning sunlight. Everyone around them was wearing blue denim pants and jackets, almost as if it were a national uniform. Of course, given the ruggedly individualistic nature of the Graftonites, there could never be any such thing as a national uniform.

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper were clad in blue denim too, all part of the Chief's plan to have them pass for Graftonites.

"Where's our contact?" said Croft, looking around. There were a few Graftonites standing around outside the terminal, but none made eye contact with them. Croft keyed up a picture of Carper Burundi on his personal data unit, then looked around. He didn't see anyone who looked like Burundi in the area.

"I told him when we were arriving," said Tane.

"Did you also tell him to meet us here?" said Croft.

"I think so," said Tane. After a pause, as she tried to reconcile her memory with what she wanted to believe, she said "I presumed that was self-evident."

The Clapper clapped twice.

Croft sighed and rolled up his left sleeve to reveal his personal comm unit, while simultaneously pulling up the comm code for Carper Burundi.

In seconds he was speaking to their contact.

"My name is Clifford Croft," said Croft.

"How alliterative," said the stone cold voice on the other end.

"We're here, at the spaceport in Regular," Croft said.

"Good to know," said Burundi.

"Why aren't you here?" Croft asked.

"I haven't received the first installment of my payment," said the even voice.

"Our arrangement was to pay you on a weekly basis, at the end of the week," said Tane, speaking into Croft's comm.

"I'm altering our arrangement," said Burundi. "I want to be paid a week in advance, effective immediately."

Croft put his hand over the comm unit. "Are you sure you couldn't find anyone else?"

Tane shook her head. "No one wants to work for off-worlders right now."

Croft took his hand off the comm unit. "Just a moment."

He took another device out of his pocket with a small keyboard, and started typing away. Then, a minute later, he returned to the wrist comm. "Done."

"Just a moment," said the voice. Then, "Confirmed. What are your instructions?"

"How long would it take you to get to the Regular spaceport?"

"About four hours."

Croft sighed. "Forget it. Just meet us at the following address," he said, providing him with a specific location. After signing off, he glared at Tane.

"What?" said Tane.

"We'd better go rent a groundcar," said Croft.

The groundcar, like everything else on Grafton, was expensive. When Croft tried to negotiate the price, the owner said, "Perhaps you'd prefer going to my competition."

"Where is your competition?"

"I have none," said the proprietor. "Only off-worlders need to rent groundcars, and we don't get many of those."

"But 500 credits a day is outrageous," said Croft.

"If you're poor, don't come to Grafton." That seemed to be the national slogan.

Croft sighed, paying. It wasn't his money, after all, but he disliked being gouged under any circumstances. He was sure that the Chief would micromanage his expense reports.

They drove for several hours in silence, only occasionally punctuated by brief outbursts of clapping.

"Does he always do that?" Tane said irritably after one outburst.

"Yes. I've even seen him do it in his sleep," said Croft.

Grafton II was beautiful. And mostly empty. It was miles and miles of forest and fields and hills and mountains, crisscrossed by roads and the occasional homestead. From time to time Croft stopped at crossroads to study the onboard map (which had cost 20 credits extra per day).

Then, finally, he turned off a paved road onto a dirt road. The ride started to get bumpy.

"Roads are one of the few services handled by the local governments," said Tane.

"Obviously they haven't quite finished the job," said Croft, as the groundcar skimmed over a bump.

"Their financial resources are quite limited, as I mentioned earlier," said Tane. "As I told you, their only source of revenue is a real estate tax on homes with-"

"Inferior gunmen, I know," said Croft.

After several minutes, they arrived small side road which a big sign that simply read, "Keep out." And then, in much smaller letters underneath, it also read, "Bodies of intruders will only be returned at next of kin's expense, plus a ten percent administrative fee."

"I think we're here," said Croft, carefully checking the map again.

"Your friend lives here?" said Tane.

"Friend is a strong word," said Croft. "I'm not sure Graftonites have friends. Call him an acquaintance." He drove the groundcar past the sign.

"Are you sure he won't consider us intruders?" Tane asked anxiously.

"Oh, he just puts up that sign to scare people," said Croft. "The Silencer is a pussycat."

"His name is the Silencer?" said Tane. "He sounds like a professional gunman."

"I hear he spent millions on focus groups to find the right name to intimidate people," said Croft. "I can see it's paid off handsomely." He looked at her face. She actually believed him.

A moment later they came upon an enormous ranch house surrounded by evergreen trees. Rows of colorful flowers were planted in front and exotic butterflies hopped from one petal to another.

A Graftonite stood on the porch.

Croft, Tane, and the Clapper cautiously got out of the groundcar.

Instantly the Graftonite's blaster was in his hand, though Croft hadn't seen him draw it.

"I guess you can't read," he said simply.

"Wait!" said Croft, raising his hands slowly in the universal surrender gesture. "I'm here to see the Silencer."

"Who are you?"

"I'm his friend," said Croft, directly contradicting what he had said to Tane only minutes earlier.

The man gave a hoarse laugh.

"What's so funny?" Croft asked.

"The Silencer hasn't got any off-worlder friends, sheep."

"He does have one, and his name is Clifford Croft," said Croft. "If you kill me without talking to the Silencer first, you'll be next."

Something in the grim certainty of Croft's tone made the man pause for a few seconds, obviously weighing his options. Would the Silencer really be upset if he shot this intruder? Or was this stranger bluffing?

There's no telling what might have happened next if another voice hadn't interrupted the gunman's train of thought.

"Ted! Put that blaster down," said a woman who had stepped out of the front door onto the porch. "What did I tell you about shooting people on the porch?"

They turned to see a woman with brown wavy hair. She was wearing the traditional Graftonite blue denim jeans but also a brown leather vest, the first non-blue color they had seen anybody wearing since they had arrived. She also wore two pearl handled pistols, one holstered on each thigh.

The Graftonite immediately lowered his gun. "The Silencer's standing orders are to shoot-"

"And my standing orders are to get their names first."

"I've already gotten his name," said the Graftonite. He nodded to Croft. "This sheep claims he knows the Silencer."

"He does," said the woman. "And it's not polite to call our guests sheep." She paused, considering, then added, "At least not to their face." She turned to Croft, and gave a real smile. "Clifford Croft, what a surprise! What brings you here?"

Croft turned to face the Silencer's wife, Annie Oakley. It was not the name she had been born with, of course, but as the winner of the gold medal in the Galactic Trick Shooting competition five times running she was entitled to be called whatever she wanted.

"Hi, Annie. I'm here to see the Silencer. I need his help," said Croft.

"John's a bit busy right now getting ready for a mission," said Oakley. "But I'm sure he can spare a few minutes for

you

. Follow me."

Croft discretely admired her shapely buttocks as they followed into her into the spacious house, through a maze of rooms. They arrived at a room filled with equipment and provisions where a tall, thin man with dark hair was filling up a rudsack. He happened to be facing away from them when they entered.

"John, I have some unexpected guests to see you," said Annie.

"Tell them I'm not here."

Croft cleared his throat. "It's a bit too late for that."

The Silencer turned around, and, for a few seconds, actually showed surprise on his face, something Croft had never seen before. Emotions of any sort, except for irritation, were never quick to come for the Silencer. "Croft. What are you doing here?" he said, not even waiting for an answer as he turned back to his packing. This was as excited as Croft had ever seen him, which is to say, not very much.

"I need your help," said Croft.

"Sorry, I'm off on a mission," said the Silencer, not actually sounding very sorry at all. He looked over at his weapons rack, picked out two blasters, and weighed one in each hand, as if deciding which one to bring. Frowning, he made a decision, putting both in the rudsack.

"This is important," said Croft.

"So is my mission," said the Silencer.

"What is it?" said Croft.

"A bounty hunt," said the Silencer.

"I'm talking about preventing an interplanetary war, that's pretty important."

"I'm talking about making money. That's pretty important too." The Silencer continued to pack.

"I see," said Croft. "John, I'm here to talk with you about Mo Quandry-"

"He's of no concern to me," said the Silencer quickly. A little

too

quickly.

"He will be if he plunges Grafton into war against the League."

The Silencer closed the rudsack, lifted it up, and turned to Croft. "As long as he stays off my property, doesn't try to take a cut of my bounty, and keeps away from my lovely wife, I really don't care." He walked past Croft to Annie, and gave her a perfunctory kiss.

"Bye killer," he said to her. "I'll see you in two weeks, maybe ten days if things go even easier than I expect."

"I'll see you, John," Annie said, her voice softening, as she watched him go. She seemed awed for a moment, but when the Silencer left the room, she quickly snapped back to the present. "I'm sorry John was in such a rush, Clifford. Would you like a drink before you go?"

They sat out on the porch drinking vorsk, a coarse local liquor that burned Croft's throat after the first sip.

"So you're here about Mo," said Annie. "It's no surprise, really."

"What's it all about, Annie?" said Croft.

"He's been stirring people up, saying we aren't getting true value for our labor," said Annie. "He says that we're the best fighters in the galaxy, which is true, of course. But the controversial part he's talking about is upping our compensation rate."

"How, by unionizing?"

Annie laughed. "We already have the bounty hunter's guild. No, Quandry is saying we should simply go out there and take what we want."

"Like he did on Grafton IV," said Croft. "Only he didn't simply rob the planet, he actually occupied it."

"Yes, that was unusual," said Annie. "His people have effectively taken over. They collect the taxes, tariffs, and fees, and are getting quite wealthy, I'm told."

"How many people does he have there?"

Annie shrugged. "50, maybe 100."

"He controls an entire planet with only 100 people?"

"I suppose," said Annie. "You look surprised."

"Well, you people are fearsome warriors, but can 100 of you really stand up against a 100,000 man army? Or a blockbuster bomb?"

Annie laughed again. "You think in such conventional terms, Clifford. Yes, if you lined up 100 of us against 100,000 of you, we'd only manage to kill a few thousand of you before we were taken down."

Only a few thousand?

Annie continued. "However, that's not the kind of war that Quandry waged."

"What kind of war did he wage?" Croft asked.

"You'll have to ask him," said Annie. "I wasn't there."

"You seem remarkably unconcerned," said Croft. "Don't you care if Quandry drags Grafton into a wider war?"

"I'm not involved," said Annie. "In fact, 99% of Graftonites aren't involved."

"What?" said Croft, looking surprised.

"Oh, he has his supporters, and a lot of sympathizers, maybe, though since they don't take many polls here, his level of support is hard to tell," said Annie. "But if you're asking how many blasters he has behind him for action, well, it can't be more than a few hundred, maybe a thousand or two."

"So you think we're blowing this out of proportion?" Croft asked.

"Not at all," said Annie. "He's gaining strength all the time; even I can see it. And a few thousand Graftonites can conquer a lot of planets."

Croft still couldn't understand how a handful of Graftonites, however skilled they might be, could take over an entire planet. It was a matter that merited further investigation.