Parker Interstellar Travels 4: The Trilisk Hunt Read Free

someone would have tagged you, Caden. The Blood Glades is rigged. You won
a popularity contest as much as anything else. I’m sorry. You’re good, but
don’t be naive. You’re old enough to know better now.”
    The connection dropped.
    It’s not true , he
thought. But it still hurt. He felt robbed of the championship. The doubt had
been introduced. He tried to sidestep the turmoil. And besides, the point
was New Annapolis; this was only a stepping-stone.
    Some small part of him wanted
to cry for the first time in years, but he stomped it down. Caden Lonrack no
longer cried.
    Since Caden did not know how to
process this disaster further, he fell into an old habit of checking up on his
friends and his usual virtual haunts. Before flitting off to share his bad news
wherever his buddies were enjoying themselves, Caden checked his batched
messages. One stood out: a job offer from a tiny outfit called Parker
Interstellar Travels.
    Mr. Lonrack. Your performance
in the Blood Glades tournament impressed us a great deal. We understand your
test scores are outstanding as well. If you’d like to try something every bit
as challenging as the space force, without big brother standing over your
shoulder, contact us. We have a fantastic position for you on the frontier. We
will cover all travel costs just for the chance to speak with you about our
offer at Parker Interstellar Travels.
    “Without big brother standing
over my shoulder,” he said aloud.
    I wonder what that means?

Chapter 2
     
    “Stand up and show me your
hands,” said the humanoid police robot.
    Imanol stood up from his desk.
A scowl lay across his unshaven face. Disheveled clothing hung on his strong
but short frame. Chaotic curly hair added to the unkempt image.
    “You have the wrong place. Check
your address,” he said. “I’m Imanol McCollum.”
    The police robot checked
Imanol’s link identification, but it did not desist.
    “That’s no one-shot stunner,”
said the cop’s voice again. The robot’s rifle came up a fraction as the
operator noticed the weapon strapped across Imanol’s chest.
    “I said I’m Imanol McCollum,”
Imanol said in irritation. “I’m a licensed security agent operating within—”
    “Identity confirmed. Though you
are no longer licensed. Put your weapon on the desk.”
    Imanol’s face turned red in
anger. His mouth compressed. “You’d better know what you’re doing.” He
surrendered his weapon as ordered.
    “I’ll add your threat to the
pending list of charges,” the robot emitted. Imanol stopped talking. A tracker
was glued to his neck. His link was electronically isolated. Then the police
robot stuffed him into a security vehicle and whisked him to the police
station. Imanol knew the place. The building was squat and armored, a flat wart
on the dark landscape of Bliss.
    Into the lair, Imanol
thought. Am I supposed to be intimidated? They’re too afraid to come out
except with their robotic proxies.
    Next was the wait. Though the
arresting officer probably had little real work to do except down a big lunch,
making Imanol wait was just a part of the routine. He had his link cache to
play with while he waited, but of course it was boring without being able to
connect to the outside world.
    Finally a real human appeared
in the waiting room to speak with him. The man was older, his hair graying, and
he carried extra weight. He had a heavily lined face that Imanol automatically
attached hatred to.
    “So my license has been
revoked? Why?” asked Imanol.
    “You dealt with the wrong
crowd. A gang. You can’t expect to work with people like this and keep your
license.”
    “What gang? You’re a buckle
bulb.”
    The officer gave him a dirty
look. He paused to access a document on his link. “Says here, Blue Comet
something or other.”
    “That’s not a gang, that’s a
frontier development company,” Imanol growled.
    “They’ve broken UN law; now
they’re a terrorist gang,” the officer said. “Take this up