Lanyon For Hire

By John Paulits

Lanyon wore out his welcome on both Hobson’s Planet and Catonia, the first two planets discovered by Earth, after some harrowing adventures there. He now travels the second planetary system discovered by Earth, hiring himself out to people in need of him. His pocketmailer message to the planets: LANYON, FOR HIRE: WITH RATOR.

On Malcosia his rator comes in handy when he confronts Gornish, the Tellurian space pirate and kidnapper. On the planet Guardon he is hired by both sides in a struggle for the soul of a planet. Finally, Lanyon signs on with fellow soldier of fortune, the Malcosian Predamor to resolve a planetary communications disruption emanating from Terbania, the wildest, most desolate planet in the system.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Books
• Release date: Aug 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781926996363

Book preview

Champagne Books Presents

Lanyon For Hire

By

John Paulits

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Champagne Books

www.champagnebooks.com

Copyright 2011 by John Paulits

ISBN 9781926996363

August 2011

Cover Art by Petra

Produced in Canada

Champagne Books

#35069-4604 37 ST SW

Calgary, AB T3E 7C7

Canada

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Champagnebooks.com (or a retailer of your choice) and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Smashwords Edition

Other Books By John Paulits

Beckoning Eternity

Dedication

For Steve Ware

One

Lanyon looked up. He picked out the three planets in the system that orbited in a manner making them always visible in the night sky. Telluria. Argon. Vanadia. The other four planets in the system showed up now and then. Selenia. Luthania. Terbania. Guardon. He knew their names before he’d arrived in Malcosia City on Malcosia, the entry planet to this system, a place where pretty much anything went in a basically peaceful sort of way. Most Earth immigrants moved on to other cities since Earthcredits were legal tender on Malcosia and nowhere else or, to a lesser extent, other planets, with the exception of Terbania, a grim and eerie world on the periphery of the system.

As Lanyon walked back to his room, the last swallows of Malcosian brandy making his head buzz, he shook his right hand. He wished the growing numbness in his skull would have the sense to move to his right hand where it would do some good. Three days on a new planet and already trouble. He’d aimed his punch at the front of the stocky, green Tellurian’s neck, but the Tellurian had moved, and Lanyon’s fist landed on the jaw ridges under the left ear. He hoped the crack he’d heard was the Tellurian’s jawbone—the jawbone of an ass, Lanyon thought—and not a bone in his hand. He flexed his hand. It seemed all right, but it hurt.

In the light of Malcosia’s two small moons, Lanyon walked down the plank sidewalk that fronted a row of ramshackle wooden buildings. Suddenly, he sensed movement ahead of him. He stopped and then started again when he saw who—or what—it was. One of the working women of Malcosia City. He studied her. Yes, he’d seen this same woman repeatedly since his arrival. It was almost as if she was stalking him. She moved off the pavement onto the dirt street, where the moonlight was brightest. She smiled at Lanyon and turned sideways, showing off her robust figure. Her tail peeped coyly out from under her long dress. She waved it slowly back and forth.

Lanyon told himself he wasn’t ready for any woman with a tail three feet long and three inches thick at its widest no matter what he’d heard about their charms. He smiled and shook his head no, hoping he was behaving politely. The Malcosian woman’s tail vanished under her dress. She walked off and Lanyon watched her go. He shook his head, flexed his fist a few times, and continued toward his lodging.

Another movement caught his eye. He cocked his head sideways, trying to translate the gloom. A boy. He faced Lanyon, so he couldn’t tell whether the boy was human or not. Then he recognized him—the same lad, a human, for whom he’d nearly broken his hand against the side of the Tellurian’s head. The boy, twelve maybe thirteen years old, approached him slowly and said, Thank you, sir. I’m… I’m sorry I ran out on you back there.

Lanyon smiled. It’s exactly what you should have done. Get the hell out and save yourself. They stood in front of Lanyon’s door. He had taken a room on the second floor—the top floor—over a used clothing store.

Mind telling me what the fuss was about, and what in God’s name you are doing here alone?

I’m not alone. My parents are staying outside of the city with my little sister. We’re on our way to Selenia. We’re going to live there. Those people are very smart you know. I was out looking around.

In a bar?

The boy shrugged. Every place else was closed.

Why was the Tellurian after you?

You don’t know?

Lanyon shook his head. You want to tell me?

Gornish is his name. He’s been here for two days, trying to get a crew for his merchant ship. He’s leaving Malcosia tonight. He’s got a reputation. He’s shipped from here lots of times. Whoever he takes with him never comes back.

Why?

The boy shrugged. I don’t know. I’ve only been here a few days myself.

And you don’t feel like leaving with Gornish to see the world?

No, sir!

Lanyon put his palm against the identicator on the door. It recognized him and a small orange light flashed. Lanyon pushed the door open. You need not thank me. I probably had too much to drink.

Well, I’m glad you did. I want to thank you anyway. You’re lucky his friends weren’t there.

Someone that ugly has friends?

The boy laughed. Yeah. Mean ones. Two of them, Tellurians, same as him. I’m going to stay home until they’re off the planet.

That would be wise. Go home now.

He went inside and closed the door behind him. A small red light glowed from the top of his bureau. His pocketmailer, which he usually carried in the hollowed out heel of his left boot, was lit. He had a message, maybe a job. After escaping from Catonia, a planet in the nearest star system, he’d spacemailed his name and availability for any kind of a job to every planet in this system except Terbania.

Lanyon, For Hire: With Rator the message read. After meeting an honest-to-goodness Tellurian, though, Lanyon figured there would not be much of a Tellurian customer base. It didn’t seem like Tellurians needed any one to do their dirty work for them. There were other planets, though. Someone somewhere would need him before his Earthcredits gave out. Someone always did.

A stray sound caught Lanyon’s ear. He went to his open window and looked out. The woman he’d passed, or one like her, stood across the street.

Two men engaged her in conversation. Even in the darkness he could tell the two men were Tellurians. They were slightly shorter than the Malcosian woman and much thicker around. Their sharp jaw ridges reflected in the moonlight, and their long, dark skirts and tight tunics were obvious. The woman pointed toward his building. He backed out of view a moment, then leaned his head forward to see what was happening. The two men, who looked creepily lizard-like in the moonlight, were walking in a very businesslike fashion toward his door.

What could that mean? He thought of the boy’s words. Two friends. Maybe Gornish didn’t take a sock in the jaw ridges lightly. He thought of his rator, hidden in the hollowed out heel of his right boot. He could reach it easily before these two could climb the stairs, so he continued to watch them.

They stopped in the middle of the street, stared off into the distance then started running. He watched their dark silhouettes move away through the moonlight. Then he saw a distant third silhouette. The boy! The Tellurians had spotted him on his way home. The boy started running. Lanyon sat on the bed, spun his right heel and took out his rator. He made certain to set it on stun, not incinerate—thus the weapon’s nickname—and then, feeling anger he could not check rising up in him, the same anger that had set him on in the tavern fight earlier, he hurried out of the room.

He caught a glimpse of the woman as he burst from the ground floor door and ran into the dusty street. He could make out a tangle of dark shadows about sixty yards away. Earth people got a ten percent gravity boost on this planet, so he knew he could catch up to the Tellurians.

Let him go, Lanyon ordered, his rator pointed at the Tellurians.

The boy pulled away from the surprised Tellurian who was holding him.

Get going kid. Run and don’t stop until you’re safe at home.

I won’t.

Then go! Now!

The boy bolted. One Tellurian lunged for the boy, but Lanyon fired a short burst from his rator. A quiet beam of light, effective only on living flesh, brought the Tellurian up short. He turned toward Lanyon, voicing what sounded like a growl.

You sing pretty, Lanyon told him, but forget about the boy.

A metallic voice came from behind him.

Do not move.

Lanyon tensed.

The same metallic voice said, Let go of your rator.

Lanyon considered grandstanding his way out of this. A quick spin. A shot. Spin back to deal with the two front of him. He thought he could do it if only he hadn’t pulled his back muscle on Catonia. Damned thing was so slow to heal. He dropped his rator and turned to look behind him.

The pistol in Gornish’s hand made Lanyon thankful he’d rejected grandstanding. As he stood waiting to see what would happen next, he felt his anger ebb away. His fire to right things always lost its intensity when only he and not someone else was in jeopardy. Gornish’s free hand pressed a translator disc against his throat.

As Gornish growled something indecipherable, a metallic voice said, You are in the way twice. I think I will kill you. You will not be missed.

From the side Lanyon heard a rustling sound. He turned his head and saw the woman who’d been shadowing him for three days. She spoke to Gornish in the same kind of indistinct growl. Gornish growled back at her. The conversation went on. Then Gornish barked a few short syllables. Lanyon watched him adjust his pistol. Through Lanyon’s mind flashed the thought, from full force or to full force? Gornish fired and Lanyon’s world went black.

When he awoke, he lay in the street, his head resting on something soft. He remembered the boy, the Tellurians, and the bolt from the pistol. Well, this couldn’t be heaven. Not the way his chest burned. The Malcosian woman bent over him.

The moons had moved since he’d noticed them on his walk home from the tavern. How long had he been unconscious? He tried to rise but his chest throbbed and dizziness welled up in his head. The woman said something. This time she did not growl. The voice had a more pleasant sibilant sound. Malcosian rather then Tellurian.

Do you speak any English? he asked.

She mumbled something at him that was certainly not English.

He took in a deep breath and got to his knees. The woman began talking to him again. He shook his head at her and wished he knew what she said.

Lanyon struggled to his feet, the woman lifting, holding, and then steadying him.

This was the closest he’d ever been to a Malcosian woman. He moved aside so the moonlight would fall on her face, which seemed fully human except for the lower hairline on the forehead. She held him tightly by the arm, and from what he could feel of her body against him, she was quite human in other ways. He noticed she kept her tail under her long dress. Then the breeze blew her dark hair against his cheek, and he could smell the fragrance of it. And all the time she spoke to him.

He made a motion as if he were putting something against his throat. She shook her head no; she had no translator disc. He invited her to walk with him. He’d bought a planetary translator disc on his arrival, and left it in his room. He wanted to know what she had to say.

She kept a tight hold on his arm as they walked, and he made no protest. When they reached his front door, Lanyon