Doom Star: Book 02 - Bio-Weapon Read Online Free PDF Page A

pick-me-up that aroused the sluggish or pills and sandwiches to provide energy.
    “Back at ten?” asked Lance.
    “Don’t be late to the shuttle or it’s a mark against all of us,” Marten said.
    Vip waved good-bye and then plunged into the crowd. Lance strode after him.
    “Now what?” asked Omi.
    “Now Marten owes me a drink,” Kang said.
    Marten peered at the festive masses. Tonight few cared that the Highborn ruled, few cared that a vast civil war raged in the Inner Planets. This was Level 49, the party palace. “What’s your poison?” Marten asked Kang.
    “Smirnoff on the rocks at Smade’s Tavern.”
    “Never heard of either,” Marten said.
    Kang turned his bulk toward the crowds and waded in. Marten glanced at Omi, who shrugged. They followed Kang. Like a bear or gorilla, the huge Mongol shouldered people out of the way. Many saw him coming and hurried aside. A few glared. Those found themselves sprawled on the floor. A policeman with a truncheon squinted as Kang headed straight at him. With a brutal shoulder-shove, Kang knocked the cop flying.
    As Marten passed, the cop leaped up and snarled into a mike on his collar. Then he sprang after Kang.
    “This could take care of our problem,” Omi said.
    “No,” Marten said. “Kang’s 101st. We’ve got to back him up.”
    “Getting motherly are you?”
    The cop grabbed Kang’s arm. Kang jerked his arm in annoyance and kept moving. Then the crowds thinned and two more policemen bore down on Kang. At a more leisurely pace behind them, there followed a thin man with bushy eyebrows. He wore a red tunic, with purple pantaloons and curly-toed slippers. He was older, with sparse hair, maybe in his late forties.
    “Halt,” said the cop behind Kang.
    Kang neither halted nor acknowledged that he’d heard.
    The two approaching cops glanced at one another. They drew shock rods and flicked power so the batons hummed. They braced themselves.
    Kang stopped so suddenly that the cop behind crashed into him. Kang seemed barely to swivel around, but he put that cop in a headlock and applied pressure so the man’s face turned red.
    “Let him go,” warned the taller of the other two cops.
    The thin man with the purple pantaloons and curly-toed slippers widened his eyes in astonishment. “Kang?” he asked.
    Kang peered at the thin man with sparse hair. The man had foxy features, sly and cruel. Kang snorted. “Heydrich Hansen, huh? Good old Sydney slum-trash.”
    The taller of the two police turned to Hansen. “You know him, sir?”
    “Indeed.”
    “What are your wishes for him, sir?”
    “Sir?” Kang asked Hansen. “Changed professions, huh?”
    Hansen’s smile lost some of its charm. “Why not let the policeman go, Kang. I’ll buy you a few drinks—to make up for that time I was late.”
    Kang seemed to consider it, as if he was doing Hansen a favor.
    Marten leaned near Omi, whispering, “Do you know this Hansen?”
    Omi frowned, shaking his head.
    The policeman in the headlock had started to turn purple. He no longer seemed to be breathing.
    “Sir!” said the taller of the two policemen.
    “I’ll buy your friends a round, too, Kang.”
    “You said several rounds,” Kang said.
    Hansen turned rueful. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but these days I’m a monitor. I’m presently on the job.”
    Kang tapped the shock trooper patch on the breast of his jacket.
    Hansen peered at it. “Ah. You and your happy band of killers are here tonight. Seems like nothing ever changes.”
    “No,” Kang said.
    “Why not consider yourself my guest tonight?” said Hansen. “For old time’s sake.”
    Kang thought a moment longer and finally released the cop, who dropped like a sack of carrots. The cop shuddered and wheezed. He began to tremble.
    The two cops with shock rods warily advanced toward their fellow peace officer.
    Kang paid them no heed. He lumbered up and slapped Hansen on the back, staggering the monitor, the secret policeman for the Highborn.