Robert Charrette - Never trust an elf

At last the razorguy stopped struggling. Kham hit him one last time to be sure, then crouched over the body. Warily he watched for another opponent as he searched for Lissa and the kids amid the carnage. There were no more raiders in sight, and the only sounds were the sobs and moans of the wounded.

Dead raiders lay scattered about the kitchen. They didn't matter to Kham. All he cared about was that orks lay dead. Far too many. Kham saw Komiko crouched protectively over her dead children, tears streaming down her face. But he knew she would not grieve for them long: her entrails lay spread and trampled on the floor beside her. Her killer had paid for his failure to kill her outright; he lay at her feet, his throat torn out.

Two bloodied ork bodies, one still breathing, lay in front of the pantry door, a trio of dead raiders entangled with them. Kham kicked the raider corpses out of the way and eased the grievously wounded Guido to a position that let him breathe easier. The kid tried to talk.

"Don't," Kham told him. "Take it easy." The kid ignored him. "Good fight. Cyg okay?" Cyg lay dead before Guide's eyes and Kham knew the kid wasn't seeing anything anymore. "She's fine. Ya did good."

"Thanks, Dad."

Kham almost corrected him, then thought better of it.

"Hi, Mom," was the last thing Guido said. As Kham laid the dead warrior down and closed his eyes, he heard muffled whispers through the pantry door. Ork voices, worried but alive. With great relief, he opened the door and saw Lissa and his children huddled inside with the other survivors; Guido and Cyg had bought them their lives. Lissa threw herself into his arms and he hugged her close. But only for a moment.

"Keep everybody here till I tell ya it's clear," he said, snatching up one of the raiders' guns and handing it to her. Tully appropriated one for himself. "Stay quiet."

He closed them into the pantry again and grabbed a dead man's weapon for himself. Satisfied that his family was safe for the moment, Kham returned to the main room. Ratstomper called from the stairs, "You okay down here?''

Kham didn't know how to answer that question, so he asked his own. "Any more up dere?"

"Got 'email."

Main room, kitchen, upstairs: all clear. It was over, then. "Take care of da wounded."

"They ain't got any."

"I meant ours, drekhead."

Ratstomper ran back up the stairs. Kham looked around the main room. Neko was nowhere to be seen, but Dodger was helping a pale and shaky Laverty to his feet. The decker was solicitous, even forgetting to talk in his hokey cant. Laverty's smile was forced as he assured his friend that he would be well. Kham doubted it, until he saw that what would have been lethal wounds for an ordinary person were already healing. The strange broken-video flicker over Laverty's head continued.

"Yaokay?" Kham asked.

"I'll live," Laverty replied. "This has been a costly exercise in humanity."

"Dese slags from dat bad boy you was warning us about?"

"Have you other enemies who would mount such a raid?"

"Nah. Least don't link so. Maybe dey was after elves?"

"If they were, I would have known. Also, they would have come better prepared for my magic."

"Looked like dey was almost prepared enough."

"Not quite enough." Laverty eased out of Dodger's supporting arm. "I must go now."

"Dere may be more outside."

Laverty closed his eyes for a moment, then said, "No. It's safe. However, the upper floors of this structure are in flames. You had best get the survivors out of here, Kham."

"Then let us leave," Dodger urged.

Laverty nodded slowly, and accepted Dodger's help as he limped toward the door.

"Ya got a car or sumpin' nearby?"

"Something, Sir Tusk."

"Watch dat elf, chummer," Kham said to Laverty. "He don't drive real good."

"Dodger will do fine," Laverty assured him. A weak voice rose from the pile of bodies near the door.

"Dodger?"

The elf stiffened at the sound of his name. Slowly he looked down at the wounded raider. The guy was an old man, running on cyberware and booster drugs, but the blood that covered him said he wouldn't be running anymore.

"I used to know a kid called Dodger. We used to run together.'' "Hello, Zip."

"Hunh. Zip. Yeah that's me. That's what they used to call me. Ain't Zip anymore." He coughed, and there was blood in the phlegm that dribbled down his chin. "Ain't much of anything anymore." "He's dying," Laverty whispered to Dodger. Dodger looked at Laverty, then at the wounded raider. In a voice even softer than Laverty's, he whispered, "Goodbye, Zip." Then he hustled Laverty out the door.

Kham moved over to the raider. If he was still alive, maybe he would talk. Throwing off the corpse that lay across the man's legs, Kham then heaved him into a sitting position. The wounded raider groaned under the mistreatment. Kham had no sympathy. This guy didn't deserve any. "Who sent ya?"

The man's head sagged, so Kham grabbed him by the jaw, tilted his head back up, and repeated the question. The man coughed, a sick sound. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at Kham.

"That was him, wasn't it? The boost makes you see things sometimes. Things that ain't there. Dead and gone. It was him, though. I'm not crazy."

"Nah, you ain't crazy. You're dead. Why not do sometin' good 'fore ya go, and tell me who sent ya?"

"What's the point?"

Neko appeared at Kham's left and addressed the old man. "Perhaps you would do it for your old friend Dodger? You were chummers, weren't you? You could say that it was for old times' sake, that you were doing a chummer a good turn."

The raider's attempt at a laugh was mangled by his coughing. "Chummers. Yeah. Real good chummers," he said dreamily. Kham could see that the man was slipping. Without warning the raider reached up and grabbed the lapel of Kham's fatigue jacket, his grip insistent, though weak. "Stick with your own kind, chummer. It's the wave of the future."

The raider went slack, his pain-etched features relaxing. The wrinkles were still there, lines that showed years of travail, years that were now over.

"Kham, the building is burning. We must leave."

Kham looked up. "Drek! Get everybody out!"

"Where shall we go, Kham?"

"Frag, catboy, I don't know. Hide out somewhere."

"Lady Tsung's?"

"Fragging hell, not now. We got trouble."

"I am aware of that. I thought she was your friend. Would she not help?"

"I ain't dragging dis mess ta her doorstep. Look, ya know Cog, right? Well, one of his places is over on Maple Valley and Francis Lane. Can ya find dat?"

Neko nodded. Kham suspected that the catboy had no idea about the location, but that he would find it. Whichever. It didn't matter. What mattered was that they lie low. Maybe if they were out of sight, the fragging elves behind the attack would forget

about them. That was the way it worked in the shadows.

"Perhaps we can meet later. Lay plans to deal with our hunter."

Smoke was starting to drift down the stairs, heralding the arrival of Ratstomper and the wounded from upstairs. Kham sent Ratstomper to get Kham's family and the rest, then turned to Neko. "Look, catboy. I got no interest in a war. Go see Cog and he'll take care 'a ya. Okay? Get lost."

Neko stood up straight, then made a stiff bow. Kham turned his back on the kid's damned Japanese formality. There were things he needed to get before he left. He ran for the stairs.

"Sayonara, Kham-san. "

Kham glanced back, but only for an instant. Through the smoke and flames he could not see if the catboy was still standing where he'd left him, or if he was doing the smart thing and saving his own hide. He hoped it was the latter; the kid was annoying at times and a little spooky at others, but he was mostly okay. Kham grabbed for the banister, but the flame-eaten wood came off in his hand. No more time to worry about the catboy. Time to start worrying about him-self.