"Curiosity Killed The Cat(P1)" by Daniel R Lix

Tack Pharaoh kicked at a bit of debris littering the sidewalk. It wore at him, having been in the city of New Atlanta for almost five weeks now, and yet not one prospective bit of honest work. Nor a place to live. The streets had held resident to the youth, thus far. At first, he’d sought to gain a job at one of the local bars, on the south side. But he wasn’t ‘intimidating’ enough, apparently. And rightfully so. Intimidating was the last thing about the pale skinned teen’s appearance. Everything about him, from his almost delicately uplifted cheekbones, to his short cut and unkempt black hair, to his innocent blue eyes, kept him from that classification. He wore a black T-shirt; the neocotton material stained with dirt and grime picked up from his nights sleeping in the alleyways. His pants were of black synthleather. He’d stolen those, along with the black synthleather trench coat that covered the two nicely.

He pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of the trench as he walked down the abandoned streets. The South Side; an example of the worst of all races, on display like a sordid menagerie.. A light fog clung lazily to the air, bringing with it a certain chill.

The sound of shuffling footsteps from one of the side alleyways. A saurin quickly darted out in front of him, the edges of the blue-green robe it wore billowing out around it. It stumbled as it leapt from the curb. Its tongue flailed out of its mouth as the limbs grappled around in the air, to steady itself. A silvery shiny object flung from its grasp, to clatter to the streets. A panicked look backward and it bolted across the street, vanishing into another alleyway. Tack’s mind barely had time to register the occurrence before the sound of more running feet echoed from the alley. Either this was an impromptu marathon, or someone was in trouble. He flattened himself up against the transparent surface of a shop window, and waited for the possible danger to pass. His fingers curled tightly around the smooth metal of the folded switchblade in his pocket.

And the footfalls grew louder. A flash of fur, followed by flick of following tail. And at a nearly impossible rush, a tzarinti female shot across the street in pursuit, disappearing into the alley on the other side. Tack immediately turned his attention to the streets. The saurin had dropped something. Maybe something he could sell, or use himself. The glint caught his eye, and he stooped down beside it, hand darting out of his trench just long enough to scoop it up. He ducked back into the alleyway, and held up his new find. A frown downturned the corners of his mouth. What was it? It looked like nothing more than a simple cylindrical crystal of some kind, no larger than his palm. He held it up, for a closer look. Little flashes of colored light sparkled intermittently from inside.

A shrill lizardlike scream and the sound of repeated gunshots, back from the location the two non-humans had disappeared down. Jolted to awareness, he headed off further down this alley. Sticking around might not be advisable. Besides... He pocketed the crystal, as he walked... Dak might be interested in it.

***

‘An Enigma’s Domain’, was a shop on the corner of seventh and Jupiter Street. The shop was owned and run by two zae-alvari, Ar-Dakaen and Ar-Aansagu. And it never ceased to fill Tack with wonder, each time he stepped into the shop. Glistening spheres twinkled from the ceiling panels, hovering about with gravitic suspension. Shelves and racks of more oddities than he could ever name, or find use to. A thin velvety mist floated through the area, suspended by the generators that pumped it in. As the youth stood in the doorway, the tinkling of digitized chimes signaled his arrival.

"Dak? You here?" He called out to the seemingly empty shop, voice just loud enough to be heard over the serene music drifting through the room. The sound of shuffling in the back room, and a grin spread across his features. Tack moved beyond several rows of shelves, until he finally dipped his head into the open doorway. "Dak?"

The black skinned Alvari looked up suddenly from his worktable, where the myriad bits and pieces of some unknown relic lay spread across the surface, along with the tools of his trade. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Tack." Ar-Dakaen commented. He then returned his gaze down to the parts sprawled in front of him. "If I had been expecting your arrival, I would have greeted you at the entrance."

Tack grinned broadly down at the Alvari. Since his recent arrival here, Dak had been one of the few he met that he could actually trust. He could always count on the being to lend him a hand – and maybe purchase something from him, every now and then. "Found something you might be interested in, man." The teen dug around in the pocket of his trench coat, before emerging with the small crystalline cylinder. He brandished his prize in the air directly in front of Dak’s eyes, only for a moment, before setting it down on its end, upon the counter.

The zae-alvari swept the cylinder up in its hands, slowly turning it over between deep ebony fingers. "Where did you locate this item, Tack?" The being once again turned its eyes up to look at him.

Tack just shrugged, hands returning to his trench. "Found it. You wanna buy it?"

"What price do you attach to this?" The zae-alvari murmured softly, before returning to its subtle examination of the crystal.

How much? Tack studied Dak’s features, watching the alvari’s intentness on the crystal. Indeed, it did seem like the being found interest in that small item. He scowled, and pressed his shoulder against the doorframe, as he considered. "Five thousand creds, and it’s yours, Dak."

Ar-Dakaen didn’t bother to look up from the crystal. Instead, he simply offered his credchip to the youth. And there was little hesitation upon the part of the teen. His eyes widened as the numbers registered, and his grin broadened further, if at all possible. "Thanks, Dak." He glanced back over his shoulder towards the main section of the shop. "Say.. Where’s Saggy, anyway? Didn’t see him out front."

The being set the crystal down upon the counter, and pushed itself from the chair it had been sitting down in. It began to step past Tack – the youth allowing it room, as it did so. "Ar-Aansagu is in attendance in a meeting at the moment, in regards to a potential future business prospect. I expect the return, shortly. I must retrieve something from the side office. Would you remain here? I wish to discuss possible employment opportunities. The streets are dangerous, Tack. I will not likely be long." And Ar-Dakaen stepped into the main room, moving out of sight beyond a row of shelves.

Tack shrugged slightly. He couldn’t agree with the being more. He wouldn’t be living on the streets, if he could afford a place of his own. And a person required a job for that. A job that he didn't have. He just shook his head, the grin not fading in the slightest. So maybe he’d have a job in this place before long. That’d sure go along way to ensure his survival. Almost unconsciously, he picked up the crystal again, off of the counter, and began toying with it in his hands. What was this thing, anyway? Some sort of rich man’s decoration? He held it up above himself, and the lights twinkled down in a virtual kaleidoscope of color. One thing was for certain – it sure was ‘pretty’.

The sound of the chimes out in the main room of the shop. He casually tilted back on his heels, head dipping outside the door, in futile attempt to see past the rows of shelves to the door. The sound of Dak’s voice came to him. "Greetings, citizen. How may we best serve you today?" The congenial tone that he’d often heard the Alvari use, upon welcoming a customer.

Tack tilted his head back down to look at the crystal. Guess Dak would be a little longer than he’d thought. Assuming the customer wanted to be shown around. He looked past the crystal, to the other assortment of items on the table. Maybe there was something else of interest. He reached out and picked up a tool at random. Seemed like it was designed to chip away at metal. An engraving tool?

The sound of crashing outside. Shattering. Tack dropped the tool back to the counter, and peeked out around the door. More crashing. The sound of Ar-Dakaen shouting, though he couldn’t make out what was being said. And then everything took on an eerily silent quality. His eyes strained to search past the various items scattered on the shelves, for any glimpse of what might have happened. The sudden report of an automatic weapon broke through the silence, ringing loudly in his ears. Something burst backwards through one of the shelves, toppling backwards. And like a row of dominoes, several more successive shelves crashed to the floor, spilling their contents through the room. Tack watched with wide eyes, face paling. There, standing near the counter, was the tzarinti female, a submachine gun still extended out from her, towards a slumped form lying twisted across one of the shelves. He sucked in a sharp breath. Her ears perked, and those yellowed cat like eyes darted towards him. A feral grin.

Tack ducked back into the room, eyes searching frantically. A simple synthplast door. He crossed the distance in as short of time it took him to draw another breath. Already he’d flung it open, and darted up the stairs on the other side. A hail of bullets spattered against the inside surface of the door, just grazing across the back edge of his trench. Another door at the top..

Come on... come on... he fumbled with the locking mechanism, but his fingers kept slipping off. A terrified look over his shoulder. The lock refused to budge.. And then she appeared there, at the bottom of the stairs, smiling maliciously. The feline feet began to pad up the stairs, one at a time, torturously slow. The weapon was lowered at her side, most casually. Almost elegantly. She knew he was trapped.

And then the lock flipped open. He wrenched upon the knob, and slammed his shoulder into the surface, and stumbled out onto the roof of the building.

An escape.. an escape... His eyes scanned the bare surface, but found nothing. And he was about two stories up right now. He would have to jump. His legs pumped furiously, tails of his trenchcoat flying out wide in the air behind him. He flailed his arms wildly as he came to a screeching halt at the edge of the building. There was an alleyway here, beneath him. A look over his shoulder.. She was still just emerging from the doorway, taking her time. His eyes closed, as he tilted his head back down towards the alley. This was going to hurt.. he could feel it already. He stepped off, into nothingness.

But even before he started to fall, he was jerked abruptly upwards, by the collar of his coat, and dragged bodily back onto the building. He crumpled, as he was thrown to the floor of the rooftop. Air blasted from his lungs, and he shot a pleading look back towards his attacker.

The tzarinti just continued to slowly approach. How she’d managed to cross the space between them so quickly.. She was obviously wired.. "No.." He whispered to himself. His fingers squeezed tightly shut, and he realized, for the first time, that he still held the crystal from the workshop.

"I’ll take that, thief." The tzarinti snarled, gesturing with the weapon, towards the crystal.

Speechlessly, Tack lifted it up towards her. The woman laughed bitterly, and plucked the item from his grasp with her free hand. "Sometimes, Thief, it is wisest to leave things where they lie." Her yellowed eyes turned towards the crystal. She nodded once in approval, before tucking the item into a pocket of her jacket. "And now, for you."

"N..no.." Tack whispered hollowly, as the barrel of the gun lifted towards his head. "I didn’t mean..."

"Don’t take this personally, thief. Just doing my job." Her finger tensed upon the trigger.

He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the jolting pain that would thrust him from this life. The sounds of the blast, echoing across the rooftops. The searing pain as the bullets ripped through his flesh. A shrieking hiss from the cat-woman. More shots. But.. he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t naive enough to believe, either, that a tzarinti could miss at such short range. He opened his eyes a bare inch. He was on his back. He couldn’t rise, as extreme pain flowed through him, in a warm puddle pooling around his body. He couldn’t tell where he was wounded – just that he was. But he could also tell that the tzarinti woman was engaged with someone else. There was fighting. But that was all he could tell, other than the occasional vaguely glimpsed blur, and the scattering of fired shots.

One last piercing blast and something heavy fell across him. A rapidly cooling body. Strange.. he barely felt the pain register, as more of his lifeblood spilled out onto the roof. He attempted to look down, at what had landed on him. Bristled fur patched in many places with fur. Wires dangled from synthetic limbs. It was the tzarinti. But abruptly, the weight was lifted, and tossed aside. A human face dominated his field of view.

"Hello there!" The man called down to him, as though from afar. "Would you like some assistance?"

Was this some kind of twisted joke? Tack sputtered out a cough, which racked his sides with pain. Blood bubbled between his lips, spilling out across his cheeks. He did his best to nod.

"Good.. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’." The man responded, and then disappeared again. Not that Tack minded, at this point. He felt cold. He could feel though, as he was easily lifted, and slung across a broad shoulder. His eyes bobbed open for a moment. This man must have been wired up as well. The ease at which he moved, despite the burden. He could feel the man stoop, and then himself being shifted, pulled from the shoulder.

"Look what I found lingering about up here," He could hear the man say, as he was passed down over the edge of the building. A pair of massive rock-like hands closed around him, amazingly gentle. As he was lowered again, his eyelids lifted again. The huge staring face of some sort of living crystal. A dischkir. Great. What have I gotten myself involved in? His eyes fell shut as the lumbering form beneath him began to move. Everything went dark, as consciousness left him.

Slowly, awareness began to return to him. The smooth surface of the mattress beneath him faded in as a dull sensation, recognized only because it meant he was still alive. Though the next thing brought forth was the sheer wrenching agony from somewhere near the center of his chest. Maybe living wasn't all it was cracked up to be. A soft groan issued between his lips. Carefully, he cracked his eyes open. The light was overwhelming at first, but as his pupils started to adjust to the room he opened them a little more. His vision was blurred for a few moments until his eyesight cleared. He found himself staring up at a simple paneled ceiling, from which several biolume tubes offered soft illumination to the room.

Struggling against the pain it caused him, the youth slipped his feet from the edge of the bed and set them upon the floor. He took the opportunity to examine his surroundings in more detail now that he was sitting up. It was a small room that reminded him very much of a prison cell. The cot that he was sitting on was pushed up against the western wall, and there was little else decorating the interior. A hinged steel door barred his way out of the room. Great. Figures. Wish I'd never gotten up today. With a sigh, he worked his way toward the door and banged a fist heavily upon it. "Hey!" Though the shout was meant to be loud, it came out as a hoarse rasp. He tried again, but to little avail. All it did was bring another wave of pain across his chest. Wincing, he braced himself against the door and placed an arm across the line of bandages. It hurt. Like a fiery river of magma flowing through his lungs. He felt ready to pass out again, a darkness edging against his vision.

The door suddenly pulled open and he nearly fell out into the corridor. A set of strong arms grabbed him, and kept him from the floor. "Hey now, careful there. Don't think you're quite ready for your feet just yet."

Tack forced his watering eyes open again and peered up through blurred vision. It was the same man from before, who had defeated the assassin on the rooftop. He felt strength swiftly leaving him, and it was all he could do to lean against the offered support. The man assisted him back to the bed, and helped him to lay down. "Where… am I?" The same hoarse rasp as before, and another explosion of pain.

"You're safe. That'll do for now, until you let yourself heal up a bit," Came the reply. Safety had always been an illusion, though. It didn't reassure him very much to hear those words, but he was hardly capable of arguing them. The words echoed back to him through his mind as he lost consciousness for a second time.