“Steady on, Ka’vex,” Presh said, “Don’t lose your head now.”
I aimed down the barrel, my hands sweating, “Would you rather be the one doing this?” I said irately. My aim faltered, the target swaying in my vision.
“I got faith in you, boy. Just being moral support,” he said, slapping my shoulder and throwing off my aim again.
I grimaced, centered my target again, and breathed out slowly. The red dot drifted down over my target and I squeezed the trigger. The trigger released the compressed gas, sending the small, wooden pellet flying toward the target. It pinged off the metal just off the top, sending the cyanovore cutout rocking back on its hinge and falling over.
The men around men hollered in drunken victory as the final target went tumbling. They spilled drinks and jumped around like unruly toddlers, smacking me on the back and shouting.
Smiling, I put the air gun down on the counter, and the shooting gallery attendant handed me a giant stuffed cyanovore. I held it high overhead in victory, much to the delight of the rest of the Breakers gathered around me.
The Festival of Lights was something the higher-ups of Brarcolyn had cooked up to boost morale across the colonies. Every section had its own setup of rides, games, and entertainment. It was day three of the week-long event, and the boys and I had been trying to hit as many different sections as possible. It was a good way to lay low and pass the time since the Overseers had started cracking down on operations.
Presh had been forced to shut down the underground fights after the death of an Overseers’ son in the ring had brought a little too much heat. Even though the ring was the center of our operations and source of income, we had diversified our business enough that it only hurt us a little. Presh was coming up in the Breakers, and he was bringing the rest of us with him.
We’d started getting our fingers into all kinds of businesses in the Unspace. Piracy, smuggling, contraband, theft, we were getting into everything. Presh had even gotten a score of chaosium from Jargun-Ba, five grams of it. After paying our dues to the higher-ups, our little crew was flying high.
Jick handed me a drink and I gulped the whole thing in one go. As we walked through the ground, looking for our next bit of fun, I handed the stuffed cyanovore to a little boy holding his mother’s hand. He beamed a smile at me and the grateful woman nodded her head and gave me an appreciative look. She knew who we were. Our crew wasn’t a nameless band of vagabonds anymore. We had a reputation.
Our activities weren’t simply a way to make it in the colonies. We helped people. Granted, our help didn’t come for free. There were payments involved. But Presh had made a policy of helping out the little guys. The deals he made with rich merchants were far different from the offers he made for widows and those injured in mining drops to Jargun-Ba.
“Look at Ka’vex,” Osk jeered, elbowing me playfully in the ribs, “Such a tender bowl of mashed fruit.”
“Yeah, he’s a right heartbreaker,” Jick jeered, joining in.”
I waved their teasing off as Presh threw an arm around my shoulders, “That’s cause Ka’vex knows that if you win the hearts and minds of the people they’ll have your back,” said said with pride.
“It’s just a toy,” I said dismissively, “Jick’s just jealous ‘cause I didn’t let him add it to his collection.
The gang laughed, shoving at the smaller Jick while the younger man blushed. It was a good night, with our moods high.
Presh grew suddenly quiet, “Settle down, boys. We got eyes on us.”
I followed his gaze to a group of four Overseers eyeing us from the corner. They looked like a nasty bunch, eyes tight and looking for trouble. We quieted down, keeping our conversation low as we walked by. I thought we were in the clear, then there was a shout.
“Hey, what are you lot up to?”
I froze and clenched my fists. Presh laid an easy hand on my shoulder and turned to talk to the Overseers. Osk hollered drunkenly, “Just enjoying the festival, same as everyone else.”
They approached us,
I started to move forward, fists clenched, and Presh put a steadying hand on my arm, “Steady, boy.”
He moved to the front of the group with a jovial smile, “Gentlemen, we’re simply exploring all the corners of the Festival of Lights. Which our lovely government has graced us with in these dark times.”
“You lot got identification on you?” The sergeant asked, his hand hovering near his baton.
“Lads, I don’t think there’s any need to get tetchy about things. We haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m sure you have better things to do than check paperwork,” Presh said.
“Yeah, like getting on knees for your bosses,” muttered Jick.
My heart fell as I saw the scowl appear on the Overseer's face, “What was that, you little roak?”
The Overseer pushed past Presh and jabbed a finger into Jick’s chest, “You got something to say? How about you say it to my face.”
“Gentlemen, my friend here just had too much to drink. I’ll take him home,” Presh said, placatingly.
“I want to hear him say it again,” the man said, jabbing Jick again, “Say it again, boy.”
Jick stared the man in the eyes, then dropped his gaze to the ground. Presh put a hand on the sergeant’s arm, “He didn’t mean it, sir.”
When Presh touched the man’s arm, the Overseer flung it off and spun around, “That’s an assault on the law,” he accused, “I’m taking you in.”
The Overseer spun Presh around, bending his arm painfully behind his back and driving him to the ground. Jick and Osk charged forward, protesting loudly as the other two Overseers pulled their batons. Things were devolving rapidly and I froze, unsure of what the play should be.
Jick punched one of the Overseers in the face, sending the man spinning. Osk tried to tackle the other one but was taken down to the ground where the two scrabbled. Shaking off my daze, I jumped in and pulled Jick away only to get hit in the face by a baton.
I fell to the ground, head spinning and sparkles in my vision. Across from me, I could see Presh’s face being forced into the ground. The Overseer’s knee pushed into the back of his neck. His eyes were wide as he struggled against the man. I tried to get to my feet and my head swam.
There were shouts all around us. People called for more Overseers while others shouted to leave us alone. The sergeant put his weight onto Presh’s neck and I heard the snap of bone. Presh’s eyes, wide with panic, went suddenly flat. I watched as the resistance flowed out of his muscles, his body going limp. The sergeant put cuffs on Presh, but they weren’t needed. My friend was already dead.
My ears rang and my vision was reduced to pinholes. They killed him. He wasn’t an innocent man, but right here, now, he hadn’t done a damn thing. Now that Presh wasn’t struggling, the sergeant got up and drew out his baton to attack Osk, who was lying on the ground. I reached over to Presh, drawing out the knife he kept at his back.
The same knife he gave me my name with.
I stalked up behind the sergeant and spun him around. He swung the baton up to bring it down on my head and I stabbed him in the guts. His body froze mid-swing, his mouth wide and face going from anger to confusion then pain. I stabbed him again, right in the liver. He was still frozen, watching with horrified eyes as blood blossomed across his stomach.
There were screams and more fervent calls for Overseers. My hand was slick with blood as I twisted the knife and drew it out. The sergeant dropped to his knees, his face pale. Osk lay still on the ground, blood running freely from his head. Jick grabbed the front of my shirt, “Run!”
Jick took off, weaving through the gathered crowd. I took a final look at Presh’s lifeless face before I followed, fleeing into the crowds as the sounds of the Festival faded behind me.
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