Jade Dancer by DezoPenguin

Chapter 1

Music surrounded Malcolm Tane as he stepped into the club, hard, driving industrial-techno that seemed to distill the spirit of the world he lived in. After all, he was one of the residents of the colony spaceship Pioneer 2, an artificial world of metal and plastic, electricity and Photon. And as a Ranger, a member of the Hunter's Guild, he was all too familiar with the dark side of modern society, the hard machine beneath the pretty surface just as the surging metallic beat underlay the electronica of the melody.

The bouncer at the door was a large blue-sheen android, a cheap version of the Hunter models with their strength and mass but without the advanced suite of combat programming that made them so lethal. Tane paid the cover charge in cash; he didn't want the club's name appearing on his credit tab. The truth was, he felt dirty just for being there, like a thin film of sweat covering his body but far more difficult to wash away.

At the main stage against the far wall, three girls cavorted in a mechanical exhibition of sensual poses. One, Tane noted, was an android; he supposed there were some people who went for that. Two more stages, small platforms in the midst of the tables, each held an additional young woman performing a semblance of intimate acts with a floor-to-ceiling pole. As might be expected, the crowd was largely male, and the majority of the females in the audience were as scantily clad as the dancers, having joined the men at their tables, sometimes as company and sometimes to enter negotiations that would lead eventually to the row of smoky amber panels along the side wall leading to the privacy rooms. Vanity Dreams did very well as a combination of strip club, hostess bar, and brothel; it was one of Downtown's business attractions.

Tane hated the place. It turned sex, intimacy, and romance into saleable commodities, which to him they were not. Business, however, was business, and Vanity Dreams's owner dealt in other commodities as well, such as information.

Tane made his way through the crowd to an open table. Almost as soon as he sat a blue-haired girl in a black-lace lingerie parody of a maid's outfit approached.

"Would you like something, sir?"

"Just tell Vanis that Malcolm Tane wants to see her."

"Oh. Very well, sir."

She vanished. Knowing that he'd probably be waiting ten minutes or more, Tane entered a drink order on the table's menu. One thing you could say for Vanis was that she didn't water the drinks, at least the ones served to the patrons. Nor was the service slow; the square-cut glass tumbler was placed by his hand in less than a minute. Tane sipped. It wasn't bad.

About a minute after the drink came, the stage lights dimmed. The music fell silent, and the house lights went down as well. There was a quick buzz of conversation, the underlying tone pitched to indicate excitement rather than apprehension. That kept Tane's hand from reaching for a weapon; whatever this was, it was an expected event.

Over the main stage only the lights came back up, faintly tinted yellow-orange like torch flames. A single figure stood there, unmoving. Music rose again, a plaintive call of traditional flutes.

The woman had golden-bronze skin and wavy jet-black hair that tumbled past her shoulders. The tips of pointed ears thrust up through the hair, marking her as one of the genetically-crafted Newman race. She was tall and lithe, with lush curves, nothing unusual in a female Newman but still worth a second (or third) look from an unattached male, especially when those curves were covered in something other than the usual leather, lace, or nothing, but a satin dress in lush emerald green edged with gold braid. It was sleeveless, with a high neck, completely covering her torso but narrowing to front and back panels that fell to ankle-length while revealing all of her sleekly muscled legs. Her feet were in small, flat-heeled slippers, and a scarf of the same material as her dress was around both wrists with several feet of slack between them.

The effect was outlandish and unusual, and made even more so by the fact that her face was entirely covered by a porcelain mask. It showed a composed, serene face with a cupid's-bow mouth, and it pulled the eyes irresistibly. What did it represent? What did it hide?

Just when Tane had had time to take in all of those facts, the music changed. The flute was replaced by drumbeats, sharp but slow-paced, and the dancer began to move. Her motions were steady and sinuous, as if driven by the music but not enslaved to it. This was not a striptease with its bold, defiant strut, but something else entirely. Even Tane kept his eyes on the slow curve of arms and legs, and from what he could tell out of the corners of his vision, everyone else in the club did as well.

The dancer's hands flickered, and two ornate swords appeared in them, snatched from who knew where. They were not combat weapons, both were two feet long in the blade and so thin that they were almost needles, but Tane knew weapons, and he could tell that the points and edges of those blades were honed to deadly sharpness. Her dance began to incorporate the weapons, using them as an extension of her arm, bright silver points to catch and guide the eye. Every movement was precise, controlled, perfect.

Then came the third change to the music as the pace increased, the flute returning with strings joining in, and its energy communicated itself at once to the dancer. Her movements increased in pace, blades flashing while her arms and legs extended in swirling movements and high kicks. The scarf around her wrists slid back and forth, extending when it had to yet never coming free, presenting a gentle hint–a tease–of restraint. The swords were like magnets for the eye; the dancer used them throughout the whirling dance to draw viewers' gazes to breast and hip, thigh and calf throughout particular movements. At times the steel seemed to flow over her body with such speed that Tane could not believe she could do so unhurt. It was an astonishing exhibition of artistry and agility, one which Tane found more arousing than the crude carnality of the strippers. They he could ignore if he wished; this Newman he could not.

She finished with a flourish, descending to a split position on the stage, then bowed deeply at the waist until her forehead brushed the ground. The lights dimmed again as thunderous applause broke out, and when they rose again the dancer was gone.

The girl in black lace returned to Tane's table as the more usual music and show resumed.

"Mr. Tane, Miss Vanis will see you now. If you would come with me?"

Tane rose and followed her out, still a bit shaken by what he'd seen.

"That last act was something new," he commented. The subconscious urge to say something was too strong to be fought, the emotional impression the dancer had left could not simply remain untouched.

"Oh, yes; Jade has been dancing only for the last six months now. She's very talented. She only performs three or four times a night, but she brings the customers in like never before. I'm surprised, though. Her turn wasn't supposed to be for another twenty minutes."

Vanis, you tricky witch. Tane would have bet money that Jade's dance had been pushed ahead right after Vanis had been informed of his arrival, with the hope of leaving him off-balance in their negotiations. Anything for an edge. He almost had to admire her for it.

Almost.

"Team B is in position."

The voice was faintly tinny and unnatural over Ralin's headset. Subvocalized communications did that; the equipment did a bad job of transmitting the subtleties of emotion. Not that he gave a damn.

"Good. Leon?"

"Ready here, too."

"Do it."

Vanity Dreams was plunged into sudden and complete darkness as the power to the building went offline. In less than five seconds emergency lights came up as secondary power restored essential functions, but that didn't matter. Ralin wasn't after darkness.

The burly Hunter plucked the eight-inch cylinder from his hip and triggered it. A bright blue spike extended three feet, the blade of his Photon brand. He was through the door in an instant and moving on the bouncer, slashing once, twice, then a third time, reducing the android "muscle" to sparking chunks of debris.

The rest of Ralin's team knew the plan. Elysse stepped out from behind him and with a wave of her hand detonated a Rafoie technique in the middle of the audience floor. The panic was total and instantaneous; the exploding fireball conjured up by the elegant Force injured many and jolted the crowd from self-indulgent lust to terror at once.

Ralin switched the brand for a longer, heavier weapon, a sword with a pole-like "blade" that was quickly surrounded by a green Photon aura once he activated it. He strode towards the panicked crowd, swinging the weapon in great two-handed arcs. He didn't particularly care if he hit anyone; the point was to clear a path as fast as possible through the room and whether the people got out of his way on their own or had to be cut down was merely a detail. He kept his eye out for more of Vanis's bully-boys, but did not change his approach when he spotted two coming at him from the bar area. That was why he had a team, after all. A moment later they lived up to his trust, Zayora and Type: D gunning down the security goons with sniper rifle shots, human and android Rangers working in tandem.

Alarms squealed and another bouncer met a quick end, this time as Elysse electrified him with a Gizonde tech. She'd had to chain the shot through about four patrons to hit the secman, but the multiple-target technique had insured that she'd get the one she wanted instead of having to carefully aim a single shot. Ralin liked that about the FOmarl; she was as efficient and ruthless as he was. They all were, really; he didn't work with street-fighter drek the way some hunters who took shadow-side jobs often did. They reached the door to the back section easily enough, and Ralin led the way in. If Team B had been having the same success, they'd have that bitch Vanis just where they wanted her.

Trapped like the rat she was.

Tane's gun was in his hand the moment the lights went out. Pioneer 2 didn't have accidental outages; there were double- and triple-failsafes in place. The emergency lights that came on in an instant were part of that. He could think of only one reason to cut the primary power to Vanity Dreams, and it didn't bode well.

"Get to cover," he ordered the girl, pushing her clear.

"What? What's going on?"

The soundproofing in the corridor muffled the explosion, but the squeal of the security alarm was loud and clear.

"They knocked out the Photon suppressors. Go get your neck out of the way!"

Tane suited his actions to his words; he didn't know who "they" were or if it had anything to do with his own job, but he wasn't going to get caught in the middle of someone else's firefight. Back to the club was right towards trouble, so he turned and ran down a side corridor. His best bet was to get away from the club and the offices, out to a side entrance.

He ended up inadvertently barging into the section of the block where Vanis's girls slept. Ordinarily, security androids would have been there to keep out any "tourists," but they were obviously responding to the threat.

No, responded, he corrected himself as the door slid open. Definitely past tense. Screams rang out from the hall ahead, together with the humming sizzle of Photon weapons. A man who looked like a living piece of rawhide–hard and thin, face weathered to bronze–ripped through the body of a bouncer android like the one out front with a pair of Photon daggers. A side door disgorged a screaming girl just to the Hunter's left, and he swept up the dagger in that hand. That made Tane's choice clear for him; his gun was already up and it took only an instant to center the sighting laser on the HUmar's skull and pull the trigger.

There was no hum of Photon energy when Tane fired, only the sharp crack of explosive propellant. Without the benefit of knowing the suppressors would be cut, he'd brought a gun that would work despite them, just in case. The slug from his Yasminkov turned the side of the Hunter's head into a red ruin and saved the prostitute's life. She screamed again and fell back through her door.

Smart move, Tane thought. The attack had come from multiple directions, no doubt with advance knowledge of the block's floorplan. They were closing in like pincers on their target, whatever it was. Vanis herself? Some object or data in her possession? Some third party known to be here at this time? Irrelevant! Escape was the goal for Tane, and that would mean evading or fighting his way through the remainder of the attackers who'd crashed the back door.

Since the Photon suppressors were out, Tane took a moment to compose himself and raise the Shifta and Deband techniques around himself. Their mystic effect would enhance his attack power and the defensive qualities of his armor, respectively. It wasn't much–he was no Force; techs were strictly an emergency function for him–but every little bit helped, and he could be sure any team as smooth in the execution of its place as this one would be overlooking it on their own side.

As ready as he could get, he raised his gun and advanced down the passage.

Jade had been very satisfied with her performance. Sometimes, it didn't go so well, either because of some lack on her part or because the audience was in a mood to see flesh, bared breasts and thighs, and the rest of her dance was nothing but an ineffective tease. Tonight, though, had been good. Her energy had been up, her movements precise, and the crowd had followed along like a dog on a lead.

It wasn't just satisfaction that made her happy as she stood under the shower, letting the hot water wash away the sweat and massage the aching-but-pleasant feeling of exertion out of her limbs. There was relief, too. Jade was a headliner, her dancing bringing in customers all by itself, and so long as that happened Vanis let her pick who (and if) she took to bed. Business was business, and exotic mystery paid better than cheap sex–particularly if the sex was there anyway. Vanis often mentioned that the other girls generally did their best business right after Jade's performances.

And besides, she thought, fingers gently brushing the left side of her face, just above the cheekbone, just how much is a deformed whore worth anyway?

The power outage cut through satisfaction and self-pity alike with the sudden plunge into darkness and the stopping water. The shower came back on, together with the pale strip over the door, but the mood was gone. Jade stilled the water and reached for a towel; she was rubbing down her hair when the alarm went off.

Fire? she thought with a moment's panic. No, that's the security alarm. Jade let the towel drop and ran into the main room, slapping the lock button by the door. That done, she grabbed one of the swords from her dance routine. It was only a prop, too light for real combat, but it was genuinely sharp and she supposed it would put a nice hole in someone. Jane wanted a weapon in her hand if there was no trouble. Only then she dressed, covering her sense of vulnerability. She hooked the straps of her eyepatch into place, settling it in, then slipped a short, shiftlike dress over her head. Then she waited, nervously clenching the needle-like sword. Sounds came to her from out in the hall, screams and shouts mingling with the sizzling hum of Photon weapon discharges.

What's happening? Oh, Heaven, what's happening?

Jade's heart nearly stopped as her door-lock beeped, signaling that someone was trying it.

"Aw, hell, it's locked."

A moment later came the sizzle of Photon energy interacting with metal and circuitry and the door hissed open. A short, thick-bodied man with a visor over his eyes and elaborate torso armor strode into the room.

"I've got another one here."

Jade didn't understand at first, but the sight of the Ranger lowering the handgun in his right fist towards her drove everything else out of her mind. She struck with the sword, and her heart swelled as its tip cut the man's gloved hand and made him drop the gun.

"Bitch!" he cursed, but he didn't slow down; his left hand plucked a Photon saber from his belt even as the curse left his mouth. Its bright green blade speared at her stomach and only Jade's enhanced Newman agility let her jump back in time. The next strike was a slash downwards that she somehow blocked with her sword, but the Photon saber blasted right through the inferior steel.

Jade pitched the hilt of her sword at the Ranger's face, buying time, and dove for a weapon. The Ranger's gun was behind him on the floor, out of reach, and she had no idea how to use one, anyway, so she went for the bathroom door instead. Just inside and on the left...

Got it!

The towel bar there was a solid piece of metal, and Jade had loosened it in its mount just in case a nasty situation came along. She yanked it free and spun just in time to parry another swipe. Sparks flew as the saber bit into the metal, but the bar was thick, unlike the sword had been, and it only took a shallow nick.

She parried a second stroke. The third was easy, almost instinctively flowing from the second block, and it surprised Jade. The riposte, though, when she continued the motion and slammed the bar into the Ranger's side just below the built-up torso armor, nearly left her gaping.

Then Jade got it, which was a good thing, because her attacker wasn't surprised at all, just hurting and not at all happy about the fact. Her training! The sword-handling practice she'd worked on for hours on end to make her dancing something different. That old fox Yoshida had been teaching her real moves, not demonstration exercises.

Either that, or she was just damned lucky.

There was really only one way to find out, and Jade tried it, striking as she would have in the practice ring. The Ranger's guard was high so she brought it higher by feinting a cut to his head, then swept in under it with a thrust to the belly just up and under the torso armor. Her attacker gagged, staggering back, and only then when he was momentarily stunned and defenseless, did she bring the towel rack down across his face. His visor shattered and blood spurted from his nose; he fell back against the doorjamb, then stumbled out into the corridor. Jade did not let up, taking another quick step forward and smashing the bar to the side of the Ranger's head. He wouldn't be getting up from that. Maybe not ever, if someone didn't get to him with a Moon Atomizer soon.

She'd done it. She'd saved herself, taken out the attacker. But what now? She couldn't just step back into the room. Jade needed to find someplace to hide. She turned, and found her path blocked by a tall, lean man with sand-colored hair cut flat on the top and sides, worn in a ponytail in the back, with narrow, square-rimmed spectacles.

And with the barrel of an enormous handgun pointing squarely at her.