Blood Relative Read Online Free Page A

were just rich enough - like Gog here, the alien dealer-fixer-pimp-whatever sitting across from Ferris in all his insectile glory - and they stayed in Pitt City because they were too greedy to leave. Gog and his kind cut up the Freeport like a pie, paying bribes to the Souther Divisional Command that technically had jurisdiction over the settlement, running their own pieces of the city as little empires. Guys like Ferris, who were forever looking for a big score and were never rich enough, were always scrabbling for enough bluebacks to pay for fuel and grub as well as getting into scrapes that inevitably ended up emptying their pockets.
    And then there were the folks at the bottom, the ones who worked as "rentals" for soldiers on liberty, or who hovered on the edges of malnutrition, living on what they could beg or steal. Money was exactly the reason why Ferris was in Gog's nightclub, and money was why Ferris had accepted the alien's commission to fly a cargo of "tractor parts" to Kyro. He'd caught some Nort flak on the return leg and lost a drive baffle. He now needed the cash more than ever, and not just because he owed hundreds in dock fees from here to the Rockies-2.
    The alien looked like the unpleasant result of crossbreeding a cockroach and a mantis, all five feet and six legs of him squatting on a broad cushion like some Old Earth Arabian prince. There weren't a lot of XT species on Nu Earth, as most of them had been smart enough to get going when the colony had turned into a war zone, but the insect had earned itself a nice piece of the action and showed no intentions of leaving.
    "F-f-f-Ferris," Gog chattered. "Nice work-k-k. I saw the hole in your thruster. Kik-kik. Other pilot wouldn't have been able to land that. Other pilot would have landed in the Pitt-t-t."
    "Hey," his reply was languid and full of studied cool. "Some guys got the skills, some guys don't." Ferris wasn't about to admit to the bug that he'd almost lost it on the touchdown, barely keeping his strato-shuttle from nose-diving into the vast crater that gave Pitt City its name.
    Gog's head bobbed. "Kik. Kyro connection was very satisfied with the merchandise."
    "Right." Ferris nodded. His jaw hardened as he thought about the boxes as they'd been hauled off the shuttle, the white armourplas containers with their stasis units. He thought about the noises the boxes had made. People noises. Scared people noises. Ferris forced the memory away; what Gog had made him carry was none of his damn business. He had to have the nu-creds, or else he'd lose his ship, his lifeline and probably a few internal organs if the syndicate's muscle boys caught up with him. Ferris couldn't help but feel sick inside as he asked, "So, my payment, then?"
    "Aaaaah," the insect wheezed. "Kik. Small problem."
    Dread, cold and sudden, flooded Ferris's chest. "Problem?" he repeated. "What kinda problem?" He let his hand drop to where the vibro-dagger he habitually carried was holstered.
    Gog made an airy gesture with two of his claws. "K-k-cash flow. I don't think I can pay you."
    Ferris's eyes narrowed. Cash flow? The damned bug was sitting next to a gold hookah and planting his scaly ass on a Nibian silk pillow, both of which were worth more than the pilot made in a year. "If not now, then when?" he demanded.
    "No," said Gog. "Not now. Not ever." It made a clicking sound that was the alien's equivalent of a laugh. "Perils of being a freelancer, F-f-Ferris. Kik."
    The pilot surged to his feet, the vibro-dag humming into his hand. "You son of a roach, where's my damn money?"
    "Gaaah!" Gog's legs came up defensively. "Thought you might take it badly, kik. Made a call in k-k-case."
    Ferris hesitated, and in that moment he heard the rising-falling hoots of an approaching military police siren. "What did you do?"
    "Remember those fuel rods you boosted from the T-t-Twentieth Mobilised last month? Kik-kik? T-told the MPs where to find you. Be here any second."
    "Ah, sneck." Just like that,