Pray for Rain

An IMPORTANT Note on the Text

  Between then and now a small number of groovy people, like your good self, have decided to download the book and so I found time to edit what I had.

  I decided that the easiest way to complete the book was to release a part 2 rather than keep adding to the manuscript until it was finished.

  Well, Part 2 is now available (there’s a link to it at the end) and the first draft of Part 3 is close to completion.

  Hope you enjoy what it is for now and if it interests you and you’d prefer to hold off until the novel is complete, I can suggest the TSAR Trilogy (now available as a box set with extras) set in the same Universe.

  Peace

  Dangerous

  Pray for Rain

  Part 1

  The Casinos of Haffir

  ‘Dangerous’ Walker

  Copyright Grahame Walker 2016

  PROLOGUE

  By the time she had realised her mistake it was, as is so often the case, too late. Things had gotten real sketchy, real fast and none of her friends seemed to have noticed. Too many Chokdee cocktails, the only reason she was more sober was that she had vomited in the club’s disgusting toilets.

  When she’d come back from the toilets her friends were already talking to a group of four men. The image of them standing around the table laughing was jarring, but she couldn’t quite place why. The men seemed out of place, though they didn’t really look any different from the others in the club.

  But.

  But, something just didn’t sit well with her. She wanted to say it was the whole vomiting thing, but she knew it wasn’t. She walked back to the table, but no one noticed her. That was becoming more and more the norm. As if they invited her out of habit and then regretted it once they got to where they were going. As one of the men went off to buy more drinks she tried to say something to Sabrine, but she wouldn’t come close enough for the other men not to hear. She got cross with her and moved away to talk with one of the men.

  She considered trying to get everyone to go home, but she knew no one would have that, think she was a party pooper and, worse, if there was something up, tip off the men. The man came back and put a tray of drinks on the table and everyone took one. She didn’t drink from hers as she worried it might be drugged. Oh, Gail, stop being silly, she told herself. What was the problem with nice men wanting to talk to them? Perhaps it was that she was getting the least attention and perhaps that was because she was being standoffish. She should try and make conversation.

  “So,” she shouted over the din, “what do you do?”

  “Whaddaya mean?” the man shouted back.

  “A job.”

  “What? Oh, you know.”

  “Well, no, that’s why I asked,” she grinned back.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  He turned and began talking to Veronica.

  Fine.

  She drank her drink, no longer worrying about it being spiked. It seemed she was being ignored, by the men and her friends. She looked around the club and then back at her own table. Her four friends were pretty, prettier than her, but she had to admit that none of them were that pretty. Not enough to really garner the attention of men. Not seriously. Drunken men will hit on anyone in clubs and they were no exception, but it seemed like these men would be looking elsewhere. Maybe they just knew they stood a better chance going middle-of-the-road. Maybe that was what was bugging her; why had these men chosen them?

  Yes, that was it. These men seemed too good for them, too good for this place. They had the air of money about them despite being dressed casually, almost scruffily. As if they were dressing to fit in. Still, wasn’t that what they were doing? Crossing over to the wrong side of the tracks? But these guys weren’t from around here, she knew that.

  She listened in to their conversation and they seemed to be asking a lot of questions, probing almost. It didn’t seem like your normal flirting, though she couldn’t admit to being an expert. She was the last one the boys ever hit on and the most she ever got was drunken compliments. Was that it? Was she jealous that once again she was being ignored?

  Ahh, forget it, she grumped to herself and got up. None of them noticed. She walked to the bar and ordered a Jeranium Buzz to sober herself up more. She wanted to go home and maybe have a few drinks there, curled up in her own room with a favourite show. Maybe one from Earth, she liked those, even if they were a little backwards. She got her drink and drank down half of it before turning back around. The table was empty. She scanned the bar and could see her friends at the door. That was a no-no and she pushed her way through as quickly as she could and reached Veronica as she was about to leave.

  “Where you going?”

  “Oh, Gail,” she said with surprise. “We thought you’d gone.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “We’re going with the boys, they say they know this cool little bar. Much better than here.”

  “We don’t do that, Ronnie.”

  “What? Oh come on, don’t be dull.”

  “But you don’t know them.”

  “Look we thought you’d gone home, wouldn’t be the first time; and I’d invite you, but now I don’t think so.”

  “Ronnie,” she pleaded as her friend turned and walked away.

  They didn’t go off with strange men, it was a rule of theirs, something they promised their parents. They kept each other safe, but now they were just going off? Was that it? Or was it that she was hurt that she was being left out? As they’d grown up she’d found herself becoming different to them, life wasn’t the same as it had been in school, but her friends didn’t seem to realise that. Well, shabbus, maybe this was her final wake up call, the realisation that they had changed, or that she had changed and she needed to move on with her life. She drank the rest of her Buzz. If they wanted to keep acting like children, then so be it. Ha, they weren’t even doing that, they used to be sensible. Wouldn’t go off with strange men, now they seemed to think they were adults and everything would be alright.

  She had that uneasy feeling in her stomach again and ran through the foyer and out of the door. She saw them across the street. One of the men was shutting the back doors of a van. She thought she heard a thud from inside, as if someone had hit the door and she watched as the man ran to the passenger door and heard him shout for them to ‘go go go’ and then he was in and the van shot off.

  It would be the last time she ever saw her friends.

  CHAPTER 1

  “This has to be your worst idea yet,” Rainsford Tsyrker shouted into her comms.

  “Worse than Tornin?” Stephen Regrette asked.

  “It’s OK for you, you’re not out here.”

  The ‘out here’ she referred to was crawling along the roof of the high speed train between the cities of Rachain and Faloo. It hovered over a rail that was held high above the ground by boosters and she could only be thankful that the entrance hatch was on the roof and not between the train and the rail. She was on the roof of the cargo carriage and though she was close to the loading hatch the wind was making it hard to get anywhere.

  She unlocked one of her grip magnets and pushed it forward before locking it again. Then she did the same with the other hand. How had she gotten this job? Grant was in the train somewhere comfortably while Regrette was in high altitude ready to swoop in once the package was secured.

  It was her own fault, back on Lancow II, the last job they’d done, she’d poked fun at them for nearly failing because they weren’t fit enough to cope. They hadn’t said that, but she knew that was why it was her stuck on the roof. Though to be fair, she smiled to herself, either of them would have been sucked under the train by now.

  “I’m at the hatch,” she said.

  “Nicely done,” Be
n Grant replied.

  “How’re the cocktails?”

  “A little sweet for my liking, but I’m surviving.”

  “Poor you.”

  “I know, but taking one for the team.”

  He sounded smug, she knew he was baiting her and she wouldn’t let him.

  “How’s it look in there?”

  “Hard to get too close, but the guards seem bored, but alert.”

  “OK, well attaching the breaker now. Gulch?”

  “I’ve got the signal,” Gulch said from the ship. “Breaking the alarm now.”

  The breaker made a helpful ping and a little light went from red to green.

  “Now for the lock,” Gulch said as the light went back to red.

  The hatch was big, used for cranes to lower large cargo in and she was going to have to use the slipstream from the train’s velocity to fling it open. That would alert the guards and then they had a very small window of opportunity to grab and escape.

  “Ahh,” said Regrette.

  “Ahh, what?” Tsyrker said angrily as she was trying to manoeuvre into position.

  “Readings on the long range scan. Moving in fast.”

  “Company?” Grant asked

  “Looks like Durden Raiders.”

  “Shabbus. Come to steal what we’re stealing,” Grant swore.

  “We’re not stealing it,” Rainsford reminded him.

  “Retrieving didn’t have the same ring to it.”

  “Either way, you need to move,” Regrette urged.

  “Gulch?”

  “There, lock is open.”

  Rainsford had left one of her grip magnets down by her leg and held onto the other as she pulled a crowbar from her suit and pried open the hatch. She let go of the grip and skidded back before grabbing the other, just far enough away not to get smashed by the hatch as the wind got under and yanked it open. She then threw herself forward, grabbing the closer grip and swung herself inside.

  ***

  As she was doing this Ben Grant was sauntering up to the guards at the door to the cargo carriage. They were bored enough not to notice him until he got nice and close.

  “Stop there.”

  “About that,” he said when there was a loud crash from the roof of the cargo carriage.

  The two guards pulled guns and as they did so Grant fired an electrode at each. Hitting them in the neck it sent through enough electricity to knock them out.

  He ran up and attached a breaker.

  “Gulch?”

  “Easy this one,” Gulch replied and then the breaker beeped and the light went green.

  Grant pulled open the door to find Rainsford already in.

  “Where?” she shouted over the din of the wind.

  He looked around.

  “There.”

  He turned around as she went for the case.

  “Trouble coming,” he shouted.

  Guards were coming down the train. Heavily armed guards.

  “Get us out of here,” Rainsford shouted.

  “Here we come.”

  Above them their ship, The Wraith, dropped through the sky and thrust forward until it was keeping track of the train. A rope with harnesses fell through the open hatch and they both strapped in.

  “Up,” Grant commanded as the guards closed in.

  The rope retracted and they were pulled through the hatch. As they did so Tsyrker dropped a smoke grenade through.

  “Definitely Raiders,” Grant said and she looked behind her.

  There was one larger ship with three fighters and they were closing fast.

  “How’d they know?” she asked.

  “Let’s worry about that later, shall we? Can you hurry this up a bit?”

  “The winch winches as the winch winches,” Gulch philosophised.

  “Nice,” Grant replied.

  “Worse than Tornin,” Rainsford said to herself.

  She swung around and managed to pull her machinegun off of her back as the Raider ships got ever closer.

  “You’ll make us a target,” Grant shouted over the wind.

  “You don’t think we already are?” she shouted back.

  “What? Little old innocent us?”

  Rainsford humphed and tried to get aim on one of the fighters. She opened fire just before their ship did and the Durden Raiders split up to avoid the laser fire.

  Grant looked down to see guards in the now smoke free cargo carriage aiming up at them. He pulled Tsyrker’s pistol and fired down at them. He tried his best not to actually hit them as they swung wildly on the rope.

  One of the fighters was coming around behind them and Grant twisted his body so that they swung around on the rope and Rainsford blasted at it. Not that her laser fire would dent the ship’s hull, but they couldn’t just dangle there. It would look unprofessional and a little lazy.

  The ship peeled off as it got blasted by Regrette from The Wraith, but that left the larger ship to try and swoop in.

  “4 o’clock,” Grant shouted and watched as Regrette re-aimed.

  They were finally reaching the ship as the Durden ship tried again to get close enough to snatch them off of the rope. Or at least the case they had taken from the train. A door was opening in the Durden ship as Regrette focussed his firepower on the two fighters. Rainsford could see a man with a long range rifle in the doorway and she sprayed at him with her laser. The man ducked inside and then reappeared, but it was too late, they were finally being taken up into The Wraith.

  “We’re in, let’s go,” Grant shouted as they stripped off the harnesses.

  The hatch slid shut below them and they ran to the bridge.

  “Take the guns,” Regrette ordered as they entered.

  He was vacating the gunner’s chair and taking the helm. Rainsford took the gunner’s chair and pulled down the screen. From here she could control all the guns, front, roof and hull, using a joystick on each of the chair arms. There was a second gunner’s chair to make the whole thing a lot easier, but she could cope on her own using a three-way split screen.

  The ship pulled up and away and she spun the hull guns to blast at the larger Durden ship as it wheeled around to give chase.

  “Be ready for more in space,” Grant warned.

  “Long range scanners aren’t picking anything up,” Gulch said from the navigator’s seat.

  Gulch was a Petruthsian, a race of large slug-like creatures who could raise up on their stubby tails to use a number of tentacles.

  “Probably keeping back for exactly that reason. Didn’t want to tip their hand,” Grant said leaning over to look at the scanner.

  “Well, game’s up now, they’ll be moving in.”

  “Not just them,” Regrette said. “InterG ships inbound.”

  “Great,” Grant sighed. “Don’t shoot them.”

  “What am I, a criminal?” Tsyrker shot back.

  “They seem to think so,” Grant shrugged and walked out of the bridge.

  The Wraith shot through the atmosphere and into space. The Durden Raider ships followed with the InterGalactic Police ships behind them. Neither were giving up the chase.

  “What’s so damned important about this thing?” Regrette said angrily.

  “One of the Stones of Tampala,” Gulch said. “Very rare, very expensive. Stolen from our client. Very interesting, the Stones, go way back in the mythology of the Kadinar people. You see…”

  “Mssh, time and place, Gulch,” Regrette said tersely as he jinked the ship left to dodge laser fire. “Coordinates plotted?.”

  “Right, yes, well, another time perhaps. Plotting now.”

  “Look forward to it,” Regrette ironicalised as he dodged more laser fire from the Durdens. “Can’t you do something about them?”

  “Surprisingly, they’re being evasive,” Rainsford sarcasticised.

  The arrival of the InterG was to her advantage though. The larger Durden ship had held back as the faster fighters dived in and out trying to cripple The Wraith. With the Inte
rG ships coming up behind them, the Durden ship was forced closer and the fighters were forced to hang back and protect it from front and rear. She got a good shot at the Durden ship as it dodged fire from the InterG.

  “Here we are. Durden cruiser on the long range, closing in,” Gulch said.

  “They won’t get involved, just rescue their ships from this mess,” Regrette said.

  “Agreed,” agreed Gulch.

  “We still here?” Grant asked from the door.

  “Just about to leave,” Regrette said spinning left to avoid laser fire. “Coordinates?”

  “In,” Gulch told him.

  “Then let’s get out of here,” he said and hit the lightspeed boosters.

  ***

  They slowed down in the black void of deep space. Except it wasn’t completely void. There was a ship there. Much larger than The Wraith which came and docked in it’s hanger.

  “Not using the secret hanger?” Grant asked.

  “I’m not sticking around,” Regrette replied.

  “Busy busy.”

  “I actually think I need a holiday; I only get shot at when I work with you.”

  “Hey, now, that’s because you hide in the shadows normally,” Grant said.

  “Use, not hide. We’ve been through this,” Regrette chided. “Sort of the point about assassinations, y’know?”

  “What about you, Rain?” Grant asked.

  “I also don’t get shot at. Unless I’m with you,” she added as they walked down the ramp.

  “What about my money?” Regrette asked.

  “I’ve made contact, you’ll have it in a few days.”

  “Good,” Regrette nodded to himself and then turned and walked back up the ramp and into his ship.

  It took off as they reached the end of the hanger bay.

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” Rainsford asked.

  “What?”

  “What he does.”

  “You thinking calling it Naval Special Forces is better?”

  “Yes,” she replied angrily. “I work to protect the UTN and it’s people.”

  “Different packaging, same product,” Grant shrugged.

  “Oh, get off your high horse, Ben.”

  She strode off.

  “You’re mouth moves faster than your brain, Ben,” Gulch said.

  “Yeah,” Grant sighed and ran a hand through his short mop of curls. “Valkswagon.”